


An Unaccomplished Fate

by enigmaticblue



Series: Avocation [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 100,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to Avocation and Under the Sun. Spike and Buffy’s relationship is on solid ground at last, but a new prophecy threatens everything they hold dear. The bonds of family and friendship will be tested, lives will be threatened, and the entire world will hang on the choice of one vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Any resemblance to canon is pretty much accidental.

**“A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne/From year to year until I saw thy face,/And sorrow after sorrow took the place/Of all those natural joys as lightly worn/As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn/By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace/Were changed to long despairs, till God's own grace/Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn/My heavy heart. Then thou didst bid me bring/And let it drop adown thy calmly great/Deep being! Fast it sinketh, as a thing/Which its own nature does precipitate,/While thine doth close above it, mediating/Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate.” ~Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “Sonnet XXV: A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne”**

 

Buffy woke to find the bed next to her empty. “Spike?”

 

When there was no answer, she rose, pulling on the pair of pajama shorts she had tossed aside last night. She wandered through Spike’s silent home with a growing sense of trepidation.

 

“Spike?” There was still no answer, and Buffy wrapped her arms around herself tightly. “Spike!” she called again.

 

“Buffy.”

 

Wesley stood there in the hallway, gun in hand, and she frowned. “Wes? What are you doing here? Where’s Spike?”

 

“You can’t let them have their way.”

 

“Let who have _whose_ way? Wes, where’s Spike?”

 

He shook his head mournfully. “I couldn’t stop them.”

 

“Oh, there you are, honey.” Joyce walked out of the kitchen with an infant in her arms. “You’d better hurry; you don’t have much time.”

 

Buffy rushed back to their bedroom, looking around again for any sign of Spike. Her fear was mounting now. He was in danger and she couldn’t get to him.

 

“Buffy?”

 

“What?” she cried, turning to see Willow in the doorway to the room. A medieval knight rose up behind her friend, and the point of a sword emerged from the center of her chest. “Willow!”

 

“It’s okay, Buffy. You can’t save everyone.”

 

A hand gripped her shoulder, and Buffy recognized Spike’s touch. She half-turned, expecting to see his handsome face, but what she did see was a gross caricature, a grinning skull with tattered skin and Spike’s eyes.

 

“Buffy! Wake up!”

 

She sat straight up in bed, gasping, her heart pounding. Spike sat up next to her, keeping a gentle hand on her shoulder so as not to spook her anymore than she already was. His skin was unmarred, his hair mussed, the sleepiness chased out of his eyes by her nightmare and his concern.

 

“Spike?”

 

“Yeah, luv, it’s me.” His gaze was sympathetic. “Slayer dream?”

 

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

 

“It can wait, then. Let’s go back to sleep. We can talk to your Watcher later.” Spike tugged her down to lie beside him and wrapped her in his arms. Buffy tried to relax; it wasn’t quite 4 a.m., and she knew that Giles would be asleep next to her mother. Joyce hadn’t been sleeping well recently, and Buffy didn’t want to cause any worry.

 

The images from her dream haunted her, however, and it took a long time for her to finally get back to sleep.

 

~~~~~

 

The sheets next to him were cool by the time Spike finally woke up for the second time. He was a little surprised to find Buffy already up; he was usually the first to rise, and he could hear a second heartbeat in the house. After a moment of concentration, Spike recognized Giles’ voice, and he got up swiftly, pulling on the pair of jeans he found on the floor and grabbing a mostly-clean t-shirt, which he donned on his way to the kitchen.

 

Buffy immediately fell silent when he walked in, and Spike frowned. He didn’t think they were in the business of keeping secrets anymore.

 

“Good morning, Spike,” Giles greeted him, then he looked at Buffy. “Perhaps you’d best start at the beginning.”

 

She nodded jerkily and described her dream in detail. Spike winced when she described Willow’s fate, as well as his appearance. “I don’t know what it means,” she finally said unhappily. “It doesn’t make any sense to me, Giles.”

 

“Slayer dreams rarely make sense before the circumstances they apply to arise.” Giles shook his head. “The best we can do is to keep a sharp lookout, I’m afraid.”

 

“We’ve dealt with this sort of thing before, luv,” Spike pointed out. “We’ll deal with this, too.”

 

She didn’t appear convinced, but Spike had been around for her prophetic dreams in the past, and Buffy was always shaken afterwards. “I know. It was just—disturbing.”

 

“I did want to talk to Spike,” Giles began. “Although I’d prefer to do so with Wesley present.”

 

Buffy sat up straighter. “Why? What does Wesley have to do with this?”

 

“The Council has contacted me; they want Spike and Wesley to go to England, to Council Headquarters.”

 

“Why?” she demanded. “What do they want?”

 

“The Council wants them to complete an errand, from what I understand,” Giles responded. “They did help us out with the Initiative, and now they are requesting our aid in return.”

 

“Well, they can go to hell.” Buffy sounded irritable, and Spike didn’t blame her. He didn’t trust the Council either, but a debt was a debt, and it needed to be repaid. Spike hadn’t survived for this long without recognizing that fact, however distasteful it might be at times.

 

Spike put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll give Wes a call; you can explain when he gets here.”

 

He just hoped that this didn’t end up being at all related to Buffy’s dream.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley turned another page in his paperback. He’d picked up the latest John Grisham novel in the airport while on their last job, and he was enjoying his chance to read for pleasure. It wasn’t often that he was able to read something other than books on magic, demonology, or other supernatural matters.

 

Courts of law were an entirely different animal, and it gave him a nice mental break.

 

When the phone rang, Wesley let out an annoyed sigh and considered ignoring it. Then again, the only people who called were Spike, Willow, Tara, and telemarketers, which meant there was a 75% chance that he actually wanted to take the call.

 

“Wyndam-Pryce.”

 

“Wes. I need you at my place.”

 

“How soon?”

 

“Now, preferably. Giles is here. Council has a job for us.”

 

Wesley’s heart sank. “The Council? Can’t we tell them to go to hell?”

 

“That’s what Buffy said, and I’ll give you the same answer: we owe them. We pay our debts, Wes. It’s the only way to keep our reputation.”

 

“Understood. I’ll be right over.”

 

Wesley already had a bad feeling about this. He didn’t like the idea of the Council needing something from them. He certainly didn’t appreciate the idea that he might have to confront old demons that he thought he’d put to rest.

 

The ride over to Spike’s took minutes, and Wesley entered reluctantly. “Spike?”

 

“In here!”

 

He entered the room slowly, stopping when he saw the others seated around the kitchen table, with identically uncomfortable expressions. “What’s going on?”

 

“You might want to sit down for this, Wesley,” Giles warned him.

 

Wesley took the fourth chair, glancing over at Spike. The vampire was staring at his hands, and he looked worried. “Giles?”

 

The older man cleared his throat. “It seems that the Council has discovered a prophecy that they believe may involve Spike.”

 

“Why Spike and _Wesley_ , then?” Buffy demanded. “They could have asked for me.”

 

Giles took his glasses off and began polishing the lenses, a sure sign of trouble. “That I do not know, but I suspect that it has something to do with Wesley’s father.”

 

Wesley grimaced. “If he wants me back on the Council, he’s much too late. I’d really rather not go.”

 

“Fine. Then I’m going with Spike.”

 

Buffy sounded determined, but Wesley saw the look that Giles and Spike exchanged. “ I’m afraid that it would be unwise to leave the Hellmouth unguarded, Buffy.” Giles’ voice was gentle but firm.

 

“Then don’t go.” Her voice was wavering now as she looked at Spike, but Wesley knew that it was only a matter of time before she capitulated to the inevitable.

 

“We’ve already talked about this, pet,” Spike said patiently. “The Council wankers helped us out of a tight jam, and we owe them. I don’t leave debts unpaid.”

 

“Fine. Then Wesley is definitely going, too.” She met Wesley’s eyes. “Just in case this is related to my Slayer dream.”

 

With that, she began to describe it while Wesley remained silent, not at all sure what to think about it, although the idea that something might happen Willow shook him up.

 

“From what you saw in your dream, I’m not sure that I will be of much help.”

 

“I don’t care. I know you’ll watch his back.” Her expression was pleading. “You have to promise me, Wes.”

 

“I’ll do my best.” He didn’t think he could promise more than that.

 

“That will have to do.” Buffy sighed. “When does Spike have to leave?”

 

“The tickets that the Council purchased require him to leave tomorrow.” Giles smiled. “They do not know that he has the Gem of Amara.”

 

“And I’d prefer to keep it that way.” Spike leaned back in his chair. “It’s our ace in the hole.”

 

“Understood.” Wesley sighed. “I suppose I’d better pack.”

 

~~~~~

 

Willow held the shirt up in front of her. “What do you think?”

 

Tara smiled indulgently. “I’m pretty sure that Wesley isn’t going to care what you wear, Will.”

 

“I know, but I want to look nice.”

 

“You’re going to look fine. What has you so worried?”

 

“I don’t know.” Willow pulled the shirt over her head and slumped down on her bed. “I just have a weird feeling about this trip that they’re taking. Wesley said he’d probably end up seeing his parents, and he has more issues with his than I have with mine.”

 

Tara winced. “And that’s saying something, huh?”

 

“They don’t even know I’m dating anybody,” Willow explained. “I don’t think they even know where I’m living now, and I doubt they care.”

 

Tara opened her mouth as though to say something, then stopped.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Nothing.” Tara forced a smile. “It’s no big deal.”

 

Willow didn’t buy that. From the few things that her friend had said, she knew that Tara didn’t like talking about her family. About the only thing she had said was that her mom had been the one to teach her about magic, and she was dead.

 

“Okay,” Willow said dubiously. “Anyway, I just don’t want Wesley to get hurt.”

 

“I understand that.” Tara smiled. “It’s going to be fine.”

 

“I hope so.” Willow gave her friend an encouraging look. “What about you? Any interesting women in your life lately?”

 

Tara shook her head. “No. It’s hard to be with someone when there’s no way they can share my entire life.”

 

Willow winced. “Yeah. You never know, though. You might find someone who knows about magic and demons.”

 

“I think you got lucky.”

 

Since Willow _had_ been thinking about Wesley, she flushed. “There was Oz, too.”

 

Tara smiled. “He was nice. Have you heard from him?”

 

“No. I doubt I will. Oz was never one for writing, and with how things ended…” Willow trailed off. “I’m not surprised.” She looked at the clock, alarmed. “I’d better get going. I’m going to be late otherwise.”

 

“Have fun!”

 

Willow dashed out and found Wesley waiting for her on his bike. “Ready to go?”

 

“Yep.” She tugged her helmet on and tightened the strap. “Where are we headed?”

 

“It’s a surprise.”

 

Willow climbed on the back of the bike without hesitation. She generally liked Wesley’s surprises.

 

He roared through the Sunnydale streets then towards the Pacific Highway, and Willow kept her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her cheek on his shoulder. She wanted to stay as close to him as possible, knowing that a separation was coming.

 

The restaurant that Wesley pulled up in front of was a nice one; that much was obvious from the outside. She was glad that she’d taken care with her appearance, and she fluffed her hair when she pulled off her helmet.

 

“What’s up?” Willow asked when she settled into her seat at the table.

 

Wesley shook his head, his smile strained and hardly reassuring. “I just wanted to treat you to a nice dinner before I had to leave.”

 

“You’re not telling me everything.”

 

“No, I’m not, but it’s not mine to tell, I’m afraid.”

 

Willow frowned. “Wes—”

 

“It’s not important.” He reached across the table to take her hand. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves tonight.”

 

She wanted to press him; Willow wanted to know everything, even if knowing everything would only cause her to worry more. But Wesley could be stubborn, and she knew that if she pressed, he was less likely to tell her anything.

 

“Okay.” She squeezed his hand. “So, how was the rest of your day?”

 

~~~~~

 

When Tara opened the door to reveal Spike on the other side, she was more than a little surprised. “Spike. What are you doing here?”

 

“I needed to ask you for a favor. Can I come in?”

 

“Of course.” Tara stepped aside to allow him entrance into the dorm room. “If you need Willow—”

 

“I don’t, although you’re welcome to include her in this if you like.” Spike turned one of the chairs around to sit backwards. “Wes and I were supposed to head down to L.A. in a few days to take a delivery from one of our regulars. I’d like you and Buffy to go.”

 

Tara was a little surprised. “Why me?”

 

“Two reasons. The first is that I know you can drive.” Spike smiled, his expression fond. “Buffy isn’t quite ready for Los Angeles traffic yet.”

 

“And the second?”

 

“I’d like you to meet Robert.” Spike cocked his head. “I think you two would enjoy one another.”

 

Tara frowned. “Spike, you know I’m gay.”

 

He chuckled, a warm sound that called an answering smile from Tara. “I know that, pet. Think you might find an ally there is all. He’s been a real friend to me.”

 

“Fair enough. I’d be happy to help,” Tara replied. “What are we picking up?”

 

“Something Robert thought would help us out. He wasn’t clear on the phone. He just said that he thought we would need it, and that Wes would have to translate most likely.”

 

“Couldn’t he have sent it through the mail?”

 

Spike shook his head. “No. There was something else, too, but he said I’d have to wait and see. Robert does like his surprises.”

 

“I don’t mind helping.”

 

“I appreciate it, Tara.” He rose. “I’d better go. We’re supposed to be at the airport soon. Buffy has the details, and she’ll ring you up in the next couple of days.”

 

“Be careful, Spike,” Tara said impulsively.

 

He cocked his head. “Something I should know?”

 

“No, I just think you should be careful.” Tara wasn’t sure how to put it, but she knew that he and Wesley would be on the Council’s turf, and that was always dangerous.

 

It was one of the reasons that she had no intention of ever going home.

 

Spike nodded. “We’ll be careful.”

 

Tara watched him leave, then sat down on her bed, picking up the book she had been reading before he arrived. Although she stared at the words on the page, she couldn’t concentrate.

 

She wondered how much Spike knew, if he could somehow sense her demon blood. Her twentieth birthday was coming up, and that’s when her father warned her it would show.

 

A year before, she would have been dreading that day. Now, however, she knew so much more and had seen so much more, that she no longer had quite the fear that she did. Why should she be frightened of her demonic side when Spike was a vampire, Anya had been a vengeance demon, and demons had aided Spike and Buffy in their fight against the Initiative?

 

But there was still a fear that she was as dangerous and evil as her father had assumed, even though her mother had been one of the kindest people she’d ever known.

 

Then again, her father had been wrong about so much, there was no reason he would be right about this.

 

~~~~~

 

Joyce put a hand on her rounded belly, feeling the flutter of life. At five months, her pregnancy was becoming obvious, a fact that Giles seemed to find endlessly fascinating.

 

She heard the front door open and close, and called out a greeting.

 

“Hey, Mom.”

 

“Hello, honey.” She accepted Buffy’s kiss on the cheek. “Did Spike and Wesley get off okay?”

 

Buffy nodded. Joyce could see the worry stamped on her daughter’s face, and it pained her. A summer of rest had done wonders for Buffy, but now it seemed as though trouble was making its way to their doorstep once again. “They did.”

 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Joyce assured her. “Spike is very capable of taking care of himself.”

 

“And Wesley will watch his back,” Buffy added with a sigh. “It’s just the Council. Giles is okay, but most of them…” She trailed off.

 

Joyce’s eyes narrowed. “Particularly that man. What was his name?”

 

“Who?”

 

“The one who set up that test.”

 

“Travers?”

 

“ _Him_.” Joyce put plenty of venom into that one word. Pregnancy had had some interesting affects on her moods, and the very thought of the man who had nearly gotten her daughter killed was enough to enrage her.

 

A real smile lit Buffy’s face. “Remind me to sic you on Travers next time he comes into town. My money is on you.”

 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Joyce took a deep, calming breath. “Would you like dinner? Rupert should be home shortly.”

 

“Yeah, sure. I didn’t have any other plans.”

 

Joyce paused as she reached for the handle on the fridge. “I know that you said you were okay with this, Buffy, but I also know that with your father…” She trailed off, unsure of how much Buffy knew about Hank’s current whereabouts. Joyce hadn’t heard from her ex-husband since her daughter had turned eighteen.

 

The flowers and tickets had been his last attempt to reach out to Buffy. Without a court order forcing him to pay child support, it was as though he’d forgotten that he’d ever had a child.

 

Joyce had attempted to get in touch with him last year, wanting to know if he would uphold their verbal bargain to split the costs of Buffy’s college tuition. She had been informed that he was doing a great deal of traveling—with his secretary.

 

In Spain.

 

“It’s okay, Mom.” Buffy propped her elbows on the counter. “Do you remember how it was before I was the Slayer? Before you guys were fighting all the time?”

 

Joyce nodded, unsure of where Buffy was going.

 

“That’s what it feels like, with you and Giles.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I know this sounds cheesy, but it’s kind of like I have a family again, and since both you and Giles know about me being the Slayer, it makes it easier.”

 

“And the baby?”

 

“It might be kind of cool.” Her daughter managed a real smile. “Weird, but cool.”

 

Joyce cupped Buffy’s cheek in her hand, looking into the eyes of her grown-up daughter, wondering if she was really equipped to start parenting all over again, and knowing that she didn’t have a choice.

 

She knew that she wouldn’t have had it any other way. “I’m glad you think so, Buffy. Would you mind setting the table?”

 

As she got the dinner things together, Joyce pushed aside the thought that things had been all too quiet for all too long.


	2. Chapter 2

**“Wake, do you wake in the dark in the strange far place,/Window and door not set like the ones we knew,/Leaning your face through the dark for another face,/ Stretching your arms to the arms that are far from you,/Even as I, through the depths of this darkness, do?...” ~E. Nesbit, “In Absence”**

 

Wesley spotted the Council representative right away; it just had to be someone from his class at the Watcher’s Academy—someone he’d rather not have ever seen again. “There.”

 

“I see him.” Spike sounded grumpy, and as though his patience, always in rather short supply, had already run out. “Who is he?”

 

“Classmate.”

 

“Ah, there you are, Wesley!” Ryder Fellows sounded rather too hearty, as he always had, even while making Wesley’s life hell at school. “I thought you were hiding.”

 

Wesley reminded himself that it was important not to insult their escort immediately; that could wait until later. “No. It was a rather full flight.”

 

“Of course.” Fellows turned to Wesley’s companion. “And this must be the great William the Bloody. Or do you prefer Spike?”

 

“Spike is fine,” the vampire said smoothly. “I take it you two know each other.”

 

Fellows laughed just a little too loudly. “We went to school together, but we weren’t close. Wesley here was something of a swot.”

 

“Is that a fact?” Spike asked mildly. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

 

Wesley shot him a sour look in warning. “Are we expected somewhere, Fellows, or do we have time to get cleaned up?”

 

Fellows smiled. “I’m under orders to take you to your hotel today, and pick you up bright and early tomorrow morning for the meeting with Mr. Travers. We’ve made arrangements to ensure your safe travel, Spike.” His smile changed, and something in his expression caused the hair on the back of Wesley’s neck to stand up. “Your father wants to see you tomorrow, Wesley. I think Mr. Travers wanted to see Spike alone.”

 

“I can’t wait,” Spike said dryly. “If you please, we’re both rather tired. We didn’t sleep on the plane, and our girlfriends were understandably upset about us leaving. I’m sure Wesley was up all hours yesterday, too.”

 

“Quite.” Wesley caught Spike’s smirk, and he knew that the Council members had likely bitten off more than they could chew. He wouldn’t be surprised if the visit was cut short, an idea that he could appreciate.

 

~~~~~

 

“So, how badly did that git torture you?” Spike asked idly while lounging on the bed in Wesley’s room.

 

Wesley didn’t reply immediately. “Let’s just say that he wasn’t the worst and leave it at that.” He sighed. “I _was_ a prefect and Head Boy my last year there. It’s only natural that Fellows would be jealous.”

 

“I see.”

 

“You must have gone to school at one point.” Wesley sounded both irritable and defensive now. “Things can’t have changed all that much.”

 

Spike laughed, although the sound had little humor in it. He had transformed himself completely when he’d become a vampire, and even when his soul had been returned, he’d never gone back to being that man. “Told you once that we weren’t all that different, Wes.”

 

Their eyes met, and Wesley nodded shortly. “Do you think—”

 

Spike cut him off with an aborted gesture. They had been working together long enough now that they could communicate with very few words, and Spike raised his voice slightly. “Why don’t we go down the street? Think I saw a place to get a drink when that Fellows git dropped us off.”

 

Wesley took the hint. “Of course. I could use a stiff drink after that flight.”

 

They didn’t speak again until they were seated in a corner table at a pub some distance from their hotel, and after Spike had made certain that they weren’t being followed.

 

“Are you suspecting a trap of some kind?” Wesley asked in a low voice after they had put in their orders.

 

Spike shook his head. “Can’t say, but I don’t like the fact that our rooms are on opposite ends of the building.” He was still wearing the Gem of Amara, and now he slipped it off of his finger and passed it to Wesley in one smooth motion. “I want you to hold this.”

 

“Are you certain?” Wesley kept the ring concealed in his hand. “It would provide more protection should the Council decided to do something dangerous to your health.”

 

“I’m sure.” Spike took a long draught of his ale. “It might just be a coincidence, but if they want us separated, I’d prefer not to have that ring on me. The Council wankers would probably regard that as the only reason they need to stake me.”

 

“Even the most shortsighted of them have to realize how foolish that would be,” Wesley argued, although he didn’t sound terribly certain of it. “Not only would they lose a potential ally, but they risk the Slayer’s wrath.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Could be that they don’t much care about the Slayer’s wrath, Wes. Think about it: where’s the new Slayer? The one who was called after Faith died. It’s not like we need another in Sunnydale, but if they’ve got their hooks into this one, might be that they’d be happy to send her after us.”

 

Wesley was clearly unhappy with that thought. “Bugger it all. They’ll be splitting us up tomorrow.”

 

“Keep sharp,” Spike advised him.

 

“When my father is around?” He was clearly disgruntled. “Always.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Hello, lovely ladies,” Xander said expansively as he sat down.

 

Buffy, Willow and Tara exchanged looks. “You’d better not let Anya catch you calling us that.” Buffy sounded amused.

 

Xander grinned. “Why? I would just tell her that she’s the loveliest, and she’d let me make it up to her later. I’m smooth.”

 

“A real Don Juan,” Willow said dryly.

 

Xander feigned hurt. “That was sarcasm in your voice, missy.”

 

“We mock where we love.” Willow sipped at her soda. “How’s work?”

 

Xander scanned the crowd for Anya. They were supposed to meet at the Bronze after they both got off. “It’s work. I’m waiting to see if they lay me off before getting out of the basement.”

 

“You’re moving?”

 

“Anya pointed out that it smells down there, and my parents don’t make the best landlords.” Xander forced a smile and tried not to think of the crumbling ceiling tiles that seemed to disintegrate under the force of his parents’ drunken arguments.

 

All three girls looked sympathetic. “Yeah,” Willow agreed. “They never did fix the water damage, did they?”

 

“No, and we’re probably breathing toxic mold.” Xander tried to make it into a joke; he hated to see pity on their faces. Then again, of all of them, Buffy was the only one with a decent parent.

 

 _Parents_ , Xander supposed. Under the circumstances, Giles was probably the closest thing to a father that any of them had.

 

“It’s a good time to get out of there, then.” Buffy straightened as another song came on. “Oh! I love this song. Willow? Tara? Want to dance?”

 

“I’ll pass,” Tara said quietly.

 

“Sure.” Willow rose. “Xander?”  


“I’ll just keep Tara company.” Xander didn’t think that Anya would appreciate him being on the dance floor without her, and he wasn’t in the dancing mood.

 

Although Anya certainly wanted him to get out of his parents’ basement, and he certainly wanted out, Xander had no idea how long this job was going to last.

 

He liked construction work a lot—he was good at it—but he had never been able to keep a job for more than a few months at a time, and he’d had this one for over six. They were going to be letting the temporary guys go pretty soon, and Xander hadn’t been told that he was anything but temporary.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

He glanced over at Tara. “Sure.” Xander thought that maybe he was imagining it, but he could see a reflection of his own fear in her eyes. “What about you?”

 

“I’m fine.” Tara didn’t sound as though she meant it, and for a moment, Xander thought about pressing her.

 

Then he realized that he didn’t know her all that well, and he remembered that he didn’t much like talking about his fears and insecurities with a stranger.

 

The moment passed, and Anya appeared next to their table. “Hi, Tara.” The ex-demon plopped down in a chair. “No offense, but I hate college students.”

 

Tara looked more amused than offended. “Why is that?”

 

“Because they come into the store wanting books that they need for their class _today_ , and then they get mad at me for not having them, because every other student needed the same books.” She huffed. “And then they go spend their money somewhere else, which is most unfair.”

 

Xander saw the smile that Tara was struggling to hold in. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

 

“It wasn’t.” The pout on her face was adorable. “And the stupid bartender still won’t give me a beer.”

 

“Allow me,” Xander said, rising.

 

“How come you can buy beer, and I can’t?” Anya demanded. “I’m older than you are!”

 

“Yes, but you don’t have a fake I.D.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and went to order drinks for everyone. For tonight, at least, he could put thoughts of his job and housing arrangements aside.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike couldn’t help but be a little concerned for Wesley. Although he knew very little about the man’s father, he could guess at quite a bit, and Wes’ racing heartbeat gave him enough to go on.

 

Wesley was nervous as all hell, and truth be told, Spike was a little suspicious. He had to wonder why the Council insisted that they visit in person when so much could be done virtually or over the phone.

 

The pretty young assistant who had greeted them led him back to a spacious reception area outside what Spike could only assume was Quentin Travers’ office. “Wait here,” she instructed him.

 

Spike sprawled in one of the padded leather chairs, wondering if he should let Travers know that Spike wasn’t above killing him if he thought that Buffy was at all in danger.

 

After a thirty-minute wait, Spike was ushered in, the young assistant all the while protesting about how badly she felt that Travers hadn’t seen him immediately. “Bollocks,” Spike said rudely. “You wanted to keep me waiting.” He met Travers’ eyes as he said this.

 

The head Watcher was standing behind a large expanse of empty desk, and Spike noticed that he made no move to extend his hand in greeting. “I hope we understand one another.”

 

“It seems that we do.” Travers waved him to a seat. “Please. Sit.”

 

Spike sat, making certain that his body language conveyed his sense of control over the situation. It might be a false sense of control, but he knew it would piss Travers off. Spike was well aware that at least some of the man’s tactics were designed to put him off his game.

 

“So, what was so important that we couldn’t have discussed it over the phone?”

 

“I see you’re a—man—who likes to get down to business.”

 

Spike heard the pause and knew it was meant to insult. Travers wanted to ensure that Spike knew he was less than—a vampire, and therefore unimportant in the scheme of things.

 

“No point in beating around the bush, is there?”

 

“I suppose not. There was an important matter I wished to discuss with you.” Travers’ voice was cool, giving nothing away. “A prophecy.”

 

Spike snorted. “When isn’t there a prophecy?”

 

“This one specifically mentions a souled vampire. If you know of another, now would be the time to mention it.”

 

“I don’t.” Spike raised an eyebrow. “Where is this prophecy?”

 

“We came across a copy recently. One of our archivists found it; our understanding is that it’s one of a very few manuscripts. It also mentions a key of some sort. Do you know anything about that?”

 

Spike wasn’t about to give up any information before he had more to go on. “Doesn’t work that way, Travers. I need more to go on before I can tell you anything.”

 

“Can or will?”

 

“Little bit of both.” Spike rose from his seat. “I want a copy of the manuscript in Wesley’s hands by the end of the day. He’ll do his own translation, then we’ll see what we can do for you.”

 

The other man showed the first sign of temper that Spike had seen, glowering at him with narrowed eyes. “I believe that I’m the one in charge here.”

 

“Sure you are,” Spike responded with a smirk. “But that doesn’t mean you can control me. I don’t know what this key is, or even how I might figure into the prophecy, but I want a set of eyes on it that I can trust.”

 

“Do you think I would have called you here on false pretenses?”

 

“I _know_ you would. Now, where is Wesley?”

 

“Mr. Wyndam-Pryce is currently with his father. I will give him a copy of the manuscript when he’s done.”

 

Spike rose and walked towards the door without saying more.

 

“You ought to try to be more polite. I saved the Slayer’s life.”

 

That sent Spike over the edge, and it was all he could do _not_ to rip Travers’ throat out right there. “You’re a bloody Watcher,” he snarled. “That’s your fucking job.”

 

He left without saying another word; Spike didn’t think any more needed to be said.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley recognized the office immediately. He’d been called in here more than once as a child, and he could remember standing before the massive desk, staring at the floor or at the wall, listening to his father’s long speeches on how much of a disappointment he had been.

 

He still felt the same sense of dread now as he had then, even though he was now an adult, a successful businessman—an extremely wealthy one at that.

 

After a brief knock, Fellows shoved the door open. “Have fun, Pryce.”

 

The décor was just as he remembered, and Wesley felt seventeen again, scared to death of his father’s inevitable disapproval. “I am not a child,” he reminded himself silently. “I am successful and rich, and I have all that I need. I don’t need his approval.”

 

The words sounded hollow, even inside his own head.

 

“Wesley.” His father’s voice was formal and precise. “Sit.”

 

He did as he was told, wishing that he could access some of Spike’s insolence, as it would drive his father crazy. “How is Mother?”

 

“She’s well.” Roger Wyndam-Pryce clasped his hands together in front of his face. “She wanted to see you while you’re here.”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

There was a moment of silence, and Wesley was the one to break it. He knew that’s what Roger had wanted; it was a method of control. “Was there a particular reason you wanted to see me?”

 

“I want you to leave the employ of that vampire.”

 

“Spike is my friend.” Wesley kept his voice even with some difficulty. “And we’re partners now; he’s not my employer.”

 

Roger smiled thinly. “Listen to yourself, Wesley. You are a Watcher. Friendship with a vampire is not a possibility.”

 

“It’s a reality, Father. I’m afraid you’ll have to accept it.”

 

Roger stood. “It’s time for you to grow up, and stop playing at being a superhero. There is a research position for you in Bath. I had to pull a few strings, of course, and there will be a probationary period, but—”

 

“No.” The word felt good in his mouth. Wesley couldn’t remember the last time he’d told his father no. “I’m a wealthy man. I don’t have to work for my living, but this is what I want.”

 

He had no idea where the words were coming from, how he could possibly have the strength to deny his father’s will.

 

“Wesley, you will do as I say. Your mother isn’t well. She needs you here.”

 

Wesley stood. “No, she doesn’t. I wouldn’t be able to see her very often if I were in Bath. If you were telling the truth, you would have made certain that I had a job in the London area.”

 

The old anger rose in Roger’s face, and his expression was the one he’d worn every time he’d shut Wesley in the closet. Old fear rose up in Wesley’s throat to choke him. “You stupid boy,” Roger hissed. “Don’t you know that if you stay with the vampire, you become an enemy of the Council? If he does something that warrants being hunted down—”

 

“You’ll gladly give the order,” Wesley said, steeling himself. Spike had taught him not to be afraid—or at the very least to meet his fear head on. “You would rather that Spike be dust, than be casting doubt on your precious order.”

 

Wesley didn’t stick around to hear his father’s response. It wasn’t worth it. He rushed out of the office and down the hall, only pausing when he heard the slightly panicked voice of Travers’ assistant behind him.

 

“Mr. Travers asked that you receive a copy of this before you left,” the young woman said breathlessly.

 

Wesley wondered if he knew her, if she was a member of one of the old families, or a prodigy that Travers had handpicked, knowing that such gestures bred loyalty. He supposed it didn’t matter, for the outcome would always be the same.

 

“Thank you.” He took the sheaf of papers and walked out of the building, breathing in the rain-damp air. Wesley paused for only a moment to wonder how Spike was getting back. The Council had picked them up in a vehicle with windows tinted so dark that even a vampire would be safe, but he had no idea whether they would offer the same consideration for the ride back to the hotel.

 

Wesley couldn’t quite believe that Spike had maintained a polite façade with Quentin Travers, and he knew that one way or another he would have hell to pay for walking out on Roger Wyndam-Pryce.

 

“I don’t care,” he muttered, trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter.

 

In truth, it had always mattered.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy glanced down at the map that Spike had drawn before leaving. “Take the next right. I think.”

 

Tara didn’t reply. She made the turn with the same frown of concentration she’d worn during the entire trip. Buffy knew that the other woman was concerned about damaging Spike’s car in some way, and in truth, Buffy was glad she wasn’t driving. It meant that she wouldn’t be to blame if something _did_ happen.

 

“There it is.” Buffy pointed at the huge house with a sigh of relief.

 

“When were you here?” Tara asked, relaxing a bit now that they had nearly reached their goal.

 

“Right before we came back to Sunnydale, after the Initiative tried to kill me.” Buffy climbed out of the car as soon as it came to a stop. “Robert is great. You’ll like him.”

 

“That’s what Spike said.”

 

“He has a good instinct for that sort of thing,” Buffy admitted. Her hand stole toward her pocket where her cell phone was tucked away. Spike had called to tell her about his meeting with Travers, and Wes’ meeting with his father, but he still had no idea how long they would be in London.

 

“We might leave sooner than we thought,” he had told her. “Don’t think we want to stay longer than we have to.”

 

Her reverie was interrupted by the appearance of one of the same servants Buffy had seen the last time, followed closely by Robert. “Buffy, how nice to see you again.”

 

“Same here,” she replied with a smile. “Robert, this is Tara.”

 

“Ah, Tara. It’s a pleasure.” Robert bowed over her hand, and Buffy was amused to see that Tara was blushing brightly. “Please, both of you, come inside. You’ll be staying the night?”

 

“We hadn’t planned on it,” Buffy replied. “I’ve got to get back to Sunnydale.”

 

Robert nodded. “Duty calls?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Sit, please.” He waved them into a comfortable study. “I know that you drink diet, Buffy. Tara?”

 

“Just water,” Tara managed.

 

Buffy noticed that while she didn’t stutter, Tara was definitely nervous. She wondered if the other woman would have been more comfortable with Willow there, but WIllow had a lab that she couldn’t miss.

 

Robert served their drinks, then went over to a cabinet and removed a scroll. To Buffy’s eye, it looked heavy and probably important. “This was what I wanted Spike to see. I believe it applies to him—and possibly to you, too, Buffy.”

 

“A prophecy?” Buffy bit back a groan. “Those never turn out well.”

 

Robert shrugged. “This one says nothing about death, merely choices, although I suspect that would be enough to cause certain parties to wish Spike dead. It is for that reason I wanted him to see it.”

 

“Why would anybody want him dead if he hadn’t made a choice yet?” Tara ventured.

 

Robert fixed her with an intense look. “He represents a wild card, a person who has no real loyalties, either to good or evil.”

 

“Of course he has loyalties,” Buffy burst out, stung. “Spike is one of the most loyal people I know!”

 

“You and I know that,” Robert said gently. “I imagine anyone who knows him would agree with us, but those who do not know him, or who do not wish to know him, would not.”

 

Buffy swallowed, remembering her dream, and her fear. “The Council.”

 

Robert nodded. “I didn’t want to risk this prophecy getting into the wrong hands, and I don’t have the ability to translate it. The little I know indicates that Spike may be a pivotal figure, but I don’t know more than that.”

 

“Okay.” Buffy took a deep breath. “I’ll let Spike know about it. Maybe he’ll come back early.”

 

“Please let me know what you find,” Robert urged. “I’d like to help any way I can.”

 

“Thank you,” Buffy said sincerely. “We should probably start back soon.”

 

Robert nodded. “Of course. Do you have time to stay for dinner?”

 

Buffy’s mouth started watering remembering the last meal she and Spike had eaten there. “I think we have time. Tara?”

 

The other woman nodded. “Sure.”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “Okay. I can call Spike after we get back to Sunnydale.”

 

With any luck, this would convince Spike to come back immediately.


	3. Chapter 3

**“Escape me?/Never—/Beloved!/While I am I, and you are you,/So long as the world contains us both,/Me the loving and you the loth,/While the other one eludes, must the other pursue./My life is a fault at last, I fear—/It seems too much like a fate, indeed!/Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed—/But what if I fail of my purpose here?...” ~Robert Browning, “Life in a Love”**

 

Wesley scribbled down a few more notes as he read through the manuscript once again. He was certain that it was incomplete, but he didn’t know whether the Council had intentionally left out some of the pieces of the puzzle, or if they were unaware of the problem.

 

The phone rang, and he sighed. The last caller had been his mother, who had informed him that she wouldn’t be able to see him while he was in town because she was going to visit his aunt in Edinburgh. While his father was unlikely to call, Wesley wouldn’t be surprised if he attempted more emotional blackmail. For some reason, Roger Wyndam-Pryce wanted his son well away from William the Bloody, even though he hadn’t seemed to care much in the last year.

 

And that worried Wesley.

 

Picking up the phone on the third ring, he gave a cautious, “Hello?”

 

“Wes?”

 

“Buffy? What’s wrong?” He knew that tone of voice; she was upset and trying hard to hide it.

 

“Nothing. At least, it’s probably nothing.” He could hear her take a deep breath. “Have you seen Spike? I’ve been trying to reach him.”

 

“I haven’t seen him since we arrived at Council headquarters this morning,” he admitted. “Spike left a note for me at the front desk to say that he’d gone out to blow off steam.” Wesley glanced at the clock and realized that nearly twelve hours had passed; he’d been so caught up in his work he hadn’t noticed the passage of time.

 

“Okay.” Buffy did not sound reassured. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

 

“Do you want me to go check his room?” Wesley asked. “I don’t know that it will do much good, but—”

 

“Would you? I’d appreciate it.”

 

“Let me call you back.” Wesley hung up quickly and walked the long hallway to Spike’s room. He knocked, and when there was no answer, Wesley pulled out the spare key card that Spike had convinced the front desk to give him.

 

“Spike?” The room was empty, although it appeared as though it was undisturbed. At least, Wesley didn’t think that anything had been moved.

 

He used his mobile to call Buffy back. “He’s not here. I’d offer to go look for him, but—”

 

“There’s no telling where he is.” She finished his sentence, sounding very unhappy. “I’m sure he’s fine, Wes. Could you just tell him to call me when he gets back in?”

 

“Of course, Buffy. If—” There was a sound at the door, and Wes turned, wishing that he’d thought to bring a weapon. “Hold on.”

 

Spike walked through the door, looking a little disheveled and out of sorts. “Wes? What are you doing here?”

 

“Looking for you. Here.” Wesley held the phone out to him, and Spike took it with a distracted expression.

 

“Hello?”

 

Wesley couldn’t hear Buffy’s side of the conversation, but he watched Spike’s face, and he thought that something was off. Wesley couldn’t say exactly what it might be, but something strange was going on.

 

“We’re flying back immediately,” Spike said into the phone. “Don’t think there’s any reason for us to stay.”

 

Wesley frowned. Spike had been very intent on paying their debt; he wondered what had changed.

 

Spike ended the call. “Get packed, Wes. We’re getting out of here.”

 

“What about the Council?” Wesley asked. “Don’t we owe them?”

 

“Not anymore. We listened, and you’ve got a copy of the prophecy. The rest of our business can take place at a distance.”

 

Wesley wasn’t quite convinced that all was well, and he had to ask, “Spike? Where were you all day?”

 

“Around.” That was all he said, and Wesley knew from past experience that was all Spike would say.

 

And although Wesley was just as happy to be heading home, he couldn’t help but be just a little concerned.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles stood next to Buffy, waiting for Wesley and Spike to arrive at the baggage claim. Willow had gone to check on the flight again since they were just a little late.

 

“Are you alright?” Giles asked quietly. Buffy had been quiet and rather distant, and he wondered what was bothering her.

 

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

 

The words rang hollow, and he bent his head to come a little closer. “Buffy—”

 

“Their flight should be on time,” Willow announced as she rejoined them. “At least, that’s what the board says.”

 

Buffy didn’t respond, so Giles nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be here shortly.”

 

As though his words had summoned them, Wesley and Spike emerged from the crowd. Wesley waved and increased his pace, greeting Willow with a hug and enthusiastic kiss. Spike moved a little more slowly, but he did the same with Buffy.

 

Giles noted that Buffy pulled back and gave him a searching look when she broke their embrace, however. He realized that her concern and disquiet was centered on Spike, but he couldn’t see a reason for it.

 

“How did your visit go?” Giles asked.

 

“It was less than fruitful,” Spike responded. “The head wanker seems to think I’m involved in some kind of prophecy. He wanted to know about a key.”

 

“What key?” Buffy asked.

 

“That’s what I said. Told him I didn’t know about a key, but that I’d have Wes look at the text and we’d get back to him. He’ll have to be satisfied with that.”

 

Giles didn’t like the sound of that. In his experience, Travers wasn’t the sort of man to be content to wait on another’s conclusions. “I see.”

 

Spike shrugged. “Wes looked at their manuscript. He thinks they left something out.”

 

“I have no proof of that,” Wesley inserted. “And I’ll need more time to be sure.”

 

“What about the text that Robert sent?” Buffy asked. “He seemed to think that it might be urgent.”

 

Spike glanced at Wes. “You might want to look at that one first, then.”

 

“I’ll do that.”

 

“After we eat,” Giles said. “Joyce wanted me to let you know that she expects you for dinner tonight.”

 

Wesley brightened considerably. “Great.”

 

Spike’s face was expressionless. “Fine.”

 

Giles’ eyes met Buffy’s, and he saw his own concern reflected there.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara entered the Summers’ residence without knocking. She’d become comfortable enough to do that, to call these people friends; it was something she’d never thought to have when she’d left home, although she had hoped for as much.

 

“Hey, Tara.” Willow smiled. “I hope you’re hungry. Joyce made enough snacks to feed an army.”

 

“No, just to feed Xander,” Buffy quipped from the living room.

 

Tara followed Willow into the living room, noting that everyone had taken their usual positions when holding a Scooby meeting. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Spike, however, because there was something seriously wrong with his aura.

 

Although Spike was leaning up against the mantle looking completely relaxed, there was a battle going on from within. She thought it looked as though something was choking him, drawing on his life force to power a spell of some kind.

 

Tara focused, trying not to appear as though she was staring at Spike as she attempted to discover what kind of spell it was, and whether it was benign or malicious. In a moment, she had her answer, and Tara came out of her light trance to find Wesley and Willow both looking at her.

 

She gave a quick shake of her head to let them know not to ask right then, and they both nodded. After working magic together as much as they had, the three of them could communicate without words.

 

No one else had appeared to notice anything, and the conversation flowed around her without Tara taking much in.

 

Spike described his meeting with Travers, giving it his own colorful spin. Wesley said only that the meeting with his father had not gone well, that Roger had said he would be sorry if he continued working with Spike, and that he had refused to go back to the Council.

 

“I don’t like it.” Buffy had her arms crossed in front of her. “They want something from you. Travers pushed Spike pretty hard for information about this key.”

 

“I didn’t know anything, and he had to accept that.” Spike sounded curiously detached. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

Wesley cleared his throat. “I beg to differ, Spike. Something my father said keeps bothering me. He made it very clear that any continued association with you could get me killed, and he never cared in the past.”

 

“There’s nothing they can do to me.”

 

“You aren’t invulnerable, Spike, even with the ring. I think you know that.” Buffy sounded incredibly frustrated, and Tara didn’t blame her. It was most unlike Spike to ignore a potential threat. He was much more likely to face it down with guns blazing.

 

Tara cleared her throat to get the others’ attention. “Maybe we can just leave it alone for now? Even if the Council does have a problem with Spike, they’ll probably wait for Wesley to read over the manuscript. We have a little time.”

 

All eyes focused on her, and when Buffy opened her mouth to argue, Tara saw Willow step hard on the Slayer’s foot.

 

“Fine, we’ll let it go for now.” Buffy sighed. “I guess that’s it, then. There really isn’t much else.”

 

“I still need to unpack,” Spike announced. “And I’m a bit jetlagged. If you lot will excuse me—”

 

Buffy followed him out, and Xander and Anya made their excuses soon after.

 

Tara stayed quiet until Wesley looked over at her. “What did you see, Tara?”

 

“Spike’s under a geas.”

 

“What?” Giles looked alarmed. “Are you certain?”

 

Wesley, in contrast, nodded in agreement, as though she had just confirmed something. “I had wondered.”

 

“You think that Travers did it?” Willow asked.

 

Wesley nodded. “It would explain a number of things.”

 

Giles rose from his spot on the couch next to Joyce. “This is not good.”

 

“Excuse me, but what is a geas?” Joyce asked, stumbling a little over the unfamiliar word.

 

“It’s a spell to make someone do what you want them to do, a compulsion.” Giles rubbed his eyes wearily. “In this case, my guess would be that Spike is under a compulsion to inform Travers when he’s discovered the key that the prophecy talks about.”

 

“Can you get rid of it?” Joyce asked.

 

Wesley and Tara looked at Willow. “I don’t know. They’re hard to break without hurting someone, or letting the magician know what happened.”

 

“But it can be done.” Giles sighed. “I’ve done it before, and I can probably take care of the geas on Spike without too much trouble.”

 

“When have you done it?” Wesley asked curiously.

 

Giles looked grim. “The Council isn’t the only organization that can hex people. There was a Watcher who was under a compulsion to kill a Council member a few years before I came to Sunnydale, and I was asked to help.”

 

Tara cleared her throat. “There may be another way,” she pointed out. “Once Spike knows about the geas, he can try to fight it.”

 

“There’s no guarantee that he would be able to overcome it,” Giles said dubiously.

 

Wesley was quick to add, “And there’s every reason to suspect that Travers would have put a compulsion in place to fight anyone who would try to remove the spell.”

 

“We’ll have to talk to Buffy.” Giles didn’t sound thrilled by the prospect. “There is no way that we’ll be able to catch Spike unawares otherwise, and if you’re correct, Wesley, we shouldn’t attempt to remove the geas until we have him well under control.”

 

~~~~~

 

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Buffy demanded as soon as they had arrived back at Spike’s house—well, their house now.

 

“There’s nothing going on, Buffy.”

 

“Don’t pull that shit on me, Spike.” Buffy knew that she had made a concerted effort over the last few months to make sure that she didn’t make big decisions without including Spike. They weren’t keeping secrets from each other anymore, no matter what, but she knew when Spike wasn’t telling her everything.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

She strode forward, putting herself in his path as he headed towards their bedroom. “Don’t give me that. What happened?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“No, you’re not.” He wasn’t meeting her eyes, and she could see pain in the lines on his face. “Spike—”

 

“Forget it.” Spike pushed past her, shoving her harder than she was expecting, catching her off balance and sending her to the floor.

 

When he didn’t even apologize, or pause, Buffy pushed herself up off the floor slowly. She had no idea what to do, or how she should respond. This was _not_ the Spike she knew, the man who had been wracked with guilt over drinking her blood, even though that had been the only way to save his life.

 

Buffy was torn between following him into the bedroom and kicking his ass, or leaving until he came to his senses. She was prevented from having to make a decision when her cell phone rang, and since it was from her mom’s number, she picked it up. “Hello?”

 

“Buffy, it’s Giles. Just answer yes or no, please. Is Spike there?”

 

Giles’ tone scared her into following his instructions without argument. “Yes.”

 

“Do you believe that he can hear my side of the conversation?”

 

Buffy paused. She heard the shower running and decided that it was unlikely. “No.”

 

“Good. We believe that Travers cast some sort of hex on him, and I think I can take it off, but we’re going to need to catch him unaware. Can you incapacitate him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Very well. I’m going to gather what I’ll need to reverse the spell, and I’ll be at Spike’s house within the hour.”

 

“Okay.” Buffy hung up the phone and looked towards their bedroom. She knew that his hearing was good, but she didn’t think it was good enough to hear Giles’ side of the conversation.

 

The water was still running, and Buffy decided that she’d be better off waiting for him to get out and get dressed. She was fairly certain that Giles would appreciate not having to deal with a naked Spike.

 

Buffy was sitting on the couch, reading a magazine, when she heard a knock at the front door. Although Spike was out of the shower, he had yet to emerge from their bedroom.

 

“Hey, Wes,” she said, as soon as she opened the door. “I thought you were going to go home and get some sleep.”

 

“I had something that I wanted to ask Spike.” Wesley moved his jacket aside, revealing the tranq pistol in the holster under his jacket. “How are you?”

 

“I’m okay.”

 

He squeezed her shoulder in wordless sympathy. “Do you need any help?”

 

“I can get it.” Buffy wanted to do this herself. She entered the bedroom without seeing Spike immediately. “Spike?”

 

“Buffy.”

 

She turned and found him watching her, his face expressionless. For a long moment, Buffy searched his face for clues as to why he would be acting this way. Unless the Council’s hex had turned him into an asshole, she didn’t understand.

 

For a moment, Buffy caught a glimpse of emotion in his eyes, and she could read the desperation there. Then it was gone, and he turned his back to her. It made Buffy’s job easier, and for a moment she wondered if that was his intent.

 

She hit him across the back of the neck with a forearm, and he went down like a ton of bricks. When he tried to push himself up, she hit him again, in the temple this time, and Spike didn’t move again.

 

With an aching heart, Buffy pulled the Gem of Amara off of Spike’s finger, knowing that would slow his recovery and make it easier for them to restrain him.

 

“Wes!” When he came into the room, Buffy said, “There are chains in the hall closet. Would you get them for me?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Between the two of them, they had Spike secured in a few minutes. Buffy found herself avoiding Wesley’s eyes, shame weighing her down. “It’s not your fault.” His words were quiet, his tone reassuring. “It had to be this way, Buffy. We don’t know what the results would be if we didn’t remove the geas.”

 

“I know.”

 

And God help her, she did.


	4. Chapter 4

**“The night is darkening round me,/The wild winds coldly blow;/But a tyrant spell has bound me,/And I cannot, cannot go./The giant trees are bending/Their bare boughs weighed with snow;/The storm is fast descending,/And yet I cannot go./Clouds beyond clouds above me,/Wastes beyond wastes below;/But nothing drear can move me:/I will not, cannot go.” ~Emily Brontë, “The Night Is Darkening Round Me”**

 

Giles took a deep breath as he stood in front of Spike. If this spell went wrong, Buffy was never going to forgive him. Removing a compulsion was a delicate process, and if he bolloxed it up, Spike could be seriously damaged.

 

“Can you do this, Giles?”

 

Buffy sounded worried, as well she might. “Yes, I believe so. If I can’t, I’ll leave the geas in place and we’ll try another tack.” He did not mention the fact that he might have gone too far to end things by the time he realized there was a problem.

 

“That’s reassuring,” she muttered. “Can you do it while he’s still out?”

 

“He’s awake,” Giles said calmly. “He has been for the last fifteen minutes.”

 

“Good call, Rupert.” Spike’s voice was even. “How did you know?”

 

“You aren’t a very good liar, even when you’re pretending to be unconscious.”

 

A grim smile tilted his lips. “Do your worst, then.”

 

Giles took a deep breath and began the spell. It was deceptively simple spell, requiring little in the way of accoutrements. His concentration had to be absolute, however, and his level of control had to be at a level rarely required in his day-to-day life. As with anything else, magic had to be practiced if skill wasn’t to be lost.

 

It had been years since Giles had been required to cast this sort of spell.

 

The geas went deep—insidious and tenacious. Giles was well aware that but for Tara’s remarkable insight, they would have missed it.

 

Slowly, carefully, Giles unwound the tendrils of the compulsion, wanting to be sure that he left nothing behind. He had to be sure that the geas wouldn’t be triggered at some future date; if the Council wanted to control Spike, they would have to make another attempt.

 

And Giles was certain that Buffy would stop any attempt that was made.

 

When he finally pulled out, Giles realized that sweat had coated his brow and was dripping down the back of his shirt. Spike looked as though he’d been through the wringer as well. He was slumped in the chair, breathing hard, even though he didn’t need to breathe.

 

“You can release him now.” Giles took the towel that Wesley held out and wiped his face.

 

“Are you certain?” Wesley asked.

 

Spike rattled the chains. “Don’t be a git, Wes. Rupert knows his job.” His eyes met Buffy’s. “I’m sorry, luv. I couldn’t figure out another way to let you know something was wrong.”

 

The tension drained out of her, and she rushed to Spike’s side, keys already in hand. “I’m sorry I had to knock you out.”

 

“I wanted you to.” Spike rubbed his wrists. “Who figured it out? Tara?”

 

“Yeah.” Buffy searched his face. “What happened?”

 

“Can I get something to drink first?” he asked plaintively. “I’m going to need fortification for this.”

 

Giles headed for the liquor cabinet, having been at Spike’s house often enough to know exactly where he kept it, and what he’d want. “I think we all need a drink,” he said. “I know I do.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike took a long sip of his scotch and thought about having another. He wasn’t nearly calm enough to speak. Maybe the geas had only been on him for a couple of days, but those had been very long days as he felt the spell like a heavy hand on his shoulder.

 

He hadn’t been able to speak, to warn Wesley or Buffy that the Council had essentially programmed him to betray them, that while he wasn’t under their complete control, he couldn’t tell the Slayer or his friends what the Council wanted so badly.

 

Or to what lengths Travers would go to get it.

 

“They got me as I was leaving our hotel,” Spike began quietly. “The Council goons used some sort of magical net, and they had me trussed up and unable to call for help in about 30 seconds.”

 

“I know what they used,” Giles said quietly. “It’s impossible to break out of from the inside.”

 

“That makes me feel better,” Spike muttered, because it did a bit. “Apparently, I wasn’t cooperative enough with Travers, and he didn’t think he could trust me to turn over this key when I found it.”

 

“What key?” Buffy demanded.

 

Wesley cleared his throat. “It’s part of the prophecy, which states that the vampire with a soul will be the guardian of the key to the doors of the worlds. I believe that Travers is concerned about the power inherent in such a position.”

 

“You think?” Spike asked. “Anyway, next thing I know they’ve put a hex on me. As soon as I found the key, I was supposed to bring it to Travers, and I was to let nothing stop me.” He swallowed, thinking of the damage he might have done if the spell hadn’t been discovered.

 

Buffy’s eyes widened as she realized what he was saying. “You could have killed someone.”

 

“I could have.” Spike shrugged the idea off uncomfortably. “I might have been able to hold back, to incapacitate, but—”

 

“I’m going to kill Travers.” Buffy’s eyes glittered menacingly, and Spike had no doubt that if the Council’s head had been anywhere nearby, he would have already been dead.

 

Giles rubbed his temples wearily. “I don’t blame you for being angry, Buffy, but I don’t think that killing Travers is the answer we’re looking for.”

 

“Maybe not, but it would make me feel better.” Buffy’s tone was a little petulant, but some of the tension eased. “What do you think, Giles?”

 

“I think that our first order of business is to discover just what it is this prophecy says. It’s entirely possible that the Council misinterpreted it.”

 

“More than possible,” Wesley inserted. “I don’t know if this was deliberate, because they were trying to keep us in the dark, or if the Council gave me what they had, but the copy I was given is incomplete.”

 

Giles nodded. “Then I think that’s what we have to work on first. Once we know what the Council is so concerned about, we’ll know more about how to deal with it.”

 

“I should get started, then.” Wesley looked at Buffy. “What did Robert say about the prophecy that he found again?”

 

“He said that it involved choices, and that Spike was a pivotal figure.”

 

Wesley frowned. “It may be that the two are related. I’ll look at both, cross-reference, see if the translations are similar…”

 

He trailed off, and Spike smiled indulgently. That was Wes; he was the research guru. “Thanks, Wes.”

 

“I’ll let you know when I have more information.”

 

Giles rose as well. “I’m afraid I need to get home. I’m not quite as young as I once was, and that spell took quite a bit out of me.”

 

“Thank you, Rupert.” Spike tried to infuse as much gratitude into his voice as he could. “That was—”

 

“I’m sure it was very unpleasant.”

 

The two ex-Watchers departed, leaving Spike alone with Buffy. “I’m sorry, luv.”

 

“You didn’t hurt me,” Buffy assured him. “Let me guess. You were acting so strangely in hopes that we would figure out the geas.”

 

He nodded. “Should have known that Tara would see it. That bird has a good head on her shoulders. What did she think of Robert?”

 

Buffy thought for a moment. “I don’t know. He made her nervous, I think, but she said he was really nice. Why did you want them to meet, Spike?”

 

“Just something I picked up from her,” Spike replied. “And I don’t know that she’s fully human.”

 

Buffy’s eyes went very wide. “Are you serious?”

 

Spike smiled. “Dead serious. Don’t know for sure, but I’ve wondered for a while. You meet enough half-breeds, and you learn to sense them, even when they can pass as well as Tara can.”

 

She shook her head, as though to settle the new idea. “I guess it doesn’t really matter,” she said slowly.

 

“Which is why I wanted her to meet Robert.”

 

Buffy smiled. “Makes sense.” She moved quickly, pulling his lips to hers. The kiss was deep and bruising; Spike could feel her teeth nipping at his lower lip, and his hands seized her hips.

 

There were no words; there was no need for them. His fingers found the sensitive skin under the waistband of her trousers, then popped the button in one deft motion. She moaned as his fingers went lower yet.

 

The sound only encouraged him. Need for her consumed him; Buffy went pliant under his hands, surrendering to his touch.

 

As Spike pleasured her, and received pleasure in return, he could forget what the Council had done to him, the feeling that he had been violated, and trapped inside his own body.

 

In this moment, he could forget everything.

 

~~~~~

 

A rather domestic silence had fallen over Wesley’s apartment. Although Wesley had informed her that translating the prophecy had to come first for now, Willow had grabbed Tara and they had both shown up at his apartment with homework and snacks.

 

Now, sitting around his kitchen table, Willow couldn’t help but marvel at the unit that they had formed. They might be part of a greater whole that included Spike and Buffy and the others, but the three of them acted as a single person at times.

 

Willow glanced up to look at Wesley, who was going between the prophecy that Robert had given Tara and Buffy, the sheaf of papers that the Council had given him, and two thick references. “Are you making any progress?”

 

“Some.” He rubbed his eyes. “It appears that both prophecies are the same, or at least refer to the same thing. I don’t know where Travers got his information, but it’s obviously incomplete.”

 

“Maybe they didn’t want you to have the whole thing,” Tara suggested.

 

Wesley frowned. “Perhaps. The Council clearly wants this key, and from the information that they gave us, I can see why. The key is described as something that could easily tear down dimensional walls, thus ending our world.”

 

“Which would be a really bad thing.” Willow grimaced. “So Travers thought that Spike would just let the world end? That’s stupid.”

 

“Yes, it is.” Wesley leaned back in his chair, stretching. “That’s why I suspect the Council has the entire prophecy, and that they wanted us to believe that the key is dangerous.”

 

Tara put down her highlighter. “You’re thinking that the Council wants the key, and they didn’t want us to interfere.”

 

“That’s exactly what I think.” Wesley looked off into the distance, and Willow knew that he was seeing all of the possibilities. That’s what he was good at—seeing the possibilities and ramifications of each choice. “Giles thought it unlikely that the Council would know that the geas had been removed, but they will eventually discover that Spike has not brought the key. I have to wonder what steps they will take at that point.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Sit.” Giles gently nudged Joyce towards the kitchen table. “You’ve been on your feet enough today.”

 

“I’m feeling fine, you know.” She sounded amused, rather than annoyed, however, and she did as he’d requested. “I have survived pregnancy before.”

 

“Humor me,” he suggested. “You might have already gone through this, but it’s my first time.”

 

Joyce merely smiled and watched as he set about making tea and sandwiches. While Giles had never claimed to be a good cook, he’d been a bachelor for too long not to have picked up a few things.

 

“How was Spike?”

 

“Understandably shaken.” Giles paused in his preparations, remembering the expression on Spike’s face when he’d asked for a drink. He remembered the last geas he’d removed, and how the Watcher had described the feeling of being a prisoner in his own body.

 

The compulsion in that case had been more insidious, as he’d been ordered to report on a number of top Council members on a regular basis before assassinating his target, but Giles imagined Spike had experienced something similar.

 

“Will he be all right?”

 

“Yes, of course. The compulsion is no longer viable.” Giles put the tray with the tea and light meal on the table. “What else can I do for you, love?”

 

The smile that curved Joyce’s lips was nothing short of predatory. “I can think of a few things, but you may want to eat first. You’re going to need your strength.”

 

Giles felt his blood heat. “We’d best get to it, then.”

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn O’Mara knew her job; as the daughter of two Watchers, and the sister to the newest Slayer, she understood just what was at stake.

 

She was to observe and learn all she could, and she was to report back with her findings.

 

Too bad Quinn hated lying. Give her a straightforward battle any day of the week.

 

Tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, Quinn entered the college classroom with a sigh. Travers had determined that this was the best way to get close to Buffy and her friends, but it essentially meant going back to school.

 

She hadn’t much liked school when she was at the Academy; she didn’t think she’d changed all that much in the last three years.

 

Taking a seat a couple of rows behind her quarry, Quinn prepared to pay attention. Just because she didn’t need the college credit didn’t mean she could afford to get kicked out for poor grades.

 

At least the sociology course was relatively interesting, she thought as the lecturer wound things up. Quinn kept an eye on Willow Rosenberg and Tara Maclay as they packed up their things, chatting animatedly about a rather obscure point.

 

Choosing her moment, Quinn approached them. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but would it be possible to get the past notes from you? I’m a late transfer, and—”

 

“Of course!” Willow said with a smile. “It’s no problem. Can I make a copy for you and bring it to the next class? I was going to review tonight.”

 

“You can use mine, if you bring them back at the next class,” Tara offered quietly. “I have another class to study for.”

 

“Thanks. I’d really appreciate that.” Quinn’s eyes met Tara’s, and there was a moment when Quinn could have sworn that the other woman recognized exactly who and what she was. Then the moment passed as Tara passed over a sheaf of notes, and Quinn made her escape.

 

Thinking about it later, Quinn knew that she was going to have to be especially careful around the quiet girl. She had been chosen for this job because of her skills, and because Rupert Giles and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had never met her.

 

They hadn’t reckoned on having someone around who could read auras so thoroughly.

 

~~~~~

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Tara nodded absently. “I’m fine. There was just something about that girl, the one who asked for our notes.”

 

“What kind of something?” Willow asked, sounding concerned.

 

Tara shook her head. “I don’t know. I got the sense that she was at war with herself.” Tara smiled. “I was probably imagining things. Are you going over to Wesley’s tonight?”

 

“Yeah, he promised to take a break from translating for a while.” Willow frowned. “Are you okay with that? I mean, I know—”

 

“It’s okay.” Tara wanted to cut short any offers of sympathy. She honestly didn’t mind being alone. She’d had nothing but bad relationships in the past, and while she was aware that good ones existed, Tara preferred to be alone than risk heartbreak again.

 

Willow nodded, dropping the subject reluctantly. “Okay. You know, I think that Marissa was interested.”

 

“Marissa wouldn’t know a real spell if it bit her in the nose,” Tara shot back.

 

Willow’s eyebrows went straight up. “Meow.”

 

Tara laughed reluctantly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

 

“No, you’re right. She wouldn’t.” Willow put a hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Tara, you know that if something’s wrong, you can tell me, whatever it might be.”

 

“I’ve been grumpy lately. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry. We all have our days.” Willow gave her a quick hug. “Just remember that we’re here.”

 

After Willow had gone, Tara wondered if that’s what was bothering her so much. Willow and the others _were_ there for her, but she wasn’t the person they believed her to be.

 

In a month, she would be twenty, and everything would change.

 

~~~~~

 

The words of the spell rang through the old monastery. Brother Luka chanted along with the others, feeling the power course through the circle, giving the energy form and purpose. Once form had been given, they would channel the rest of the power into making a place for the newly formed Key.

 

Brother Luka felt it when the form was complete, and he and his brothers began the last part of the spell.

 

A great force blew in the doors, and one of the wooden splinters caught Brother Kurt in the throat. The power behind the spell was lost, as he had been the anchor.

 

“I don’t like it when other people steal my things.”

 

The voice of the Beast boomed off the stones, and Luka threw himself out of the way of the statue that it sent towards them.

 

He knew that there was nothing to be done to save his brothers. The Key had been formed, but no place had been made. It was up to him to make certain that it didn’t fall into the wrong hands, and that the Guardian was made aware of his destiny.


	5. Chapter 5

**“I’ve listened: and all the sounds I heard/Were music,—wind, and stream, and bird./With youth who sang from hill to hill/I’ve listened: my heart is hungry still…I’ve thought: but in my sense survives/Only the impulse of those lives/That were my making. Hear me say/‘I’ve thought!’—and darkness hides my day.” ~Siegfried Sassoon, “Alone”**

 

Buffy heard Spike’s groan as the doorbell rang. “Don’t answer it.”

 

“Good plan.” He tugged her closer. “I’m all for it.”

 

It rang again, more insistently this time, and it was her turn to groan. “Why can’t they go away and leave us alone?” she demanded.

 

“There’s no rest for the wicked.” Spike pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “And the righteous don’t need any.”

 

“I’d like to argue with that.”

 

He smiled. “So would I. I’ll just go tell them to bugger off then. Stay right there.”

 

Buffy did as he said, waiting for him for the next five minutes. When he didn’t return, she rose and pulled on the clothing she’d worn last night. As she moved down the hall, she swore she could hear sobbing. “Spike?”

 

He was sitting on the couch next to a teenage girl, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder as she cried. “Buffy, I—”

 

“I’ll get some water,” she said. Once she’d filled a glass, Buffy went back to the living room and held it out to the girl. “Here.”

 

The teen took it and sipped in between gulps of air. “I had to come.”

 

Buffy exchanged a look with Spike. “What do you need?” Spike asked. “Is there someone after you?”

 

“You’ll protect me, right?” She looked at Spike pleadingly. “I came here because I thought you would.”

 

“Uh…” For just a moment, Spike appeared to be on the verge of panic. “Of course. You just sit tight, and we’ll take care of this.”

 

He rose and pulled Buffy into the kitchen. “What the hell was that?” she hissed.

 

“I don’t know.” Spike ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “She shows up at the door, says she’s Dawn, and don’t I know her? I’ve never seen her before in my life!”

 

Buffy took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “Okay. Okay. We’ll find out where her parents are, and why she thinks you were going to protect her once she’s calmed down. Then, we’ll take her where she needs to go. It’s as simple as that.”

 

Spike gave her a dirty look. “Aren’t you the one always telling me not to jinx things?”

 

Buffy winced. “Whoops?”

 

~~~~~

 

Willow’s legs were tangled with Wesley’s, and she was utterly content. She pulled herself closer, one hand stroking his bare chest. “Hey.”

 

“Good morning,” he murmured. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Really good.” Willow took a deep breath. “It’s Saturday, you know. No classes.”

 

“What did you have in mind?” Wesley’s smile said that he already knew.

 

She grinned at him. “I think it’s a good day to stay in bed.”

 

The ringing of the phone proved that the universe had a sense of humor. Wesley sighed and reached for the phone. “This had better be good.”

 

Willow moved just a little so that she could hear the voice on the other end of the phone, and recognized Spike. “It’s good. I just had a fourteen-year-old girl spin a story that I’m having a hard time with. She says her name is Dawn Summers, and that she’s supposed to be Buffy’s sister.”

 

“Buffy doesn’t have a sister,” Wesley replied automatically.

 

“That’s exactly what we said, but the kid insists that she is. She’s pretty hysterical, as maybe you can imagine if you think you’re someone that nobody else remembers.”

 

Willow winced when she thought of what that might be like. After years of living on the Hellmouth, her imagination was pretty good. Apparently, Wesley could imagine it, too. “Do you think it has something to do with the prophecy?” he asked.

 

“You tell me. That’s why I called you.”

 

“I’ll do whatever I can. Let us grab our things, and we’ll be right over.”

 

Amusement colored Spike’s tone. “Sorry for the interruption. Buffy and I were similarly engaged.”

 

“It’s good to know that we aren’t alone in our annoyance.” Wesley hung up the phone and looked at Willow. “Rain check?”

 

“Of course.” She was already scrambling out of bed. Willow located the clean clothes she’d brought over the night before. “What do you think this is about, Wes?”

 

“I have no idea,” he admitted. “It makes very little sense.”

 

They both finished getting ready in silence, Willow’s quick mind mulling over the possibilities. By the time they made it to Spike’s place, she had about five theories, each one more outlandish than the last.

 

She pushed open the door, since Wesley had his arms full of research materials. “Hello?”

 

“In the kitchen, Will.”

 

Buffy was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, watching a teenage girl with wary eyes. The teen did bear some resemblance to Buffy—and Joyce, actually—but not so much that Willow would have assumed they were related had she seen them on the street.

 

The girl was eating scrambled eggs and toast slowly, her eyes red from weeping, and Willow caught the look that Wesley and Spike exchanged. She was amused, and not for the first time, at how they were able to communicate without words.

 

Spike had just emptied a frying pan onto two plates. “You two help yourselves. I’m sure you didn’t get a chance to eat before you left.”

 

“No, we didn’t,” Wesley replied, grabbing both and sitting down at the table.

 

“Dawn, this is Wesley and Willow, friends of ours.” Buffy made the introductions, her tone gentle. “They’re going to help us figure out what’s going on.”

 

“I told you what happened,” Dawn insisted. “I’m not crazy.”

 

“Why don’t you tell me what you told Spike, Dawn,” Wesley suggested gently. “It might help us understand what happened.”

 

Dawn’s eyes filled with tears again. “I don’t know what happened. I was—” She shook her head. “My name is Dawn Summers. My sister’s name is Buffy, and Spike is supposed to protect me. He promised to protect me.”

 

“What’s the first thing you remember?” Wesley coaxed.

 

Dawn shook her head. “This morning. I was—I don’t know where I was. I came here because—”

 

“Because Spike would protect you.” Buffy finished the statement, her tone both gentle and somewhat exasperated. Willow got the feeling that’s about all Dawn had been able to say. Clearly, whomever or whatever had messed with Dawn had impressed upon her the fact that Spike would protect her.

 

Wesley’s eyes went wide. “The guardian. Spike!”

 

Spike frowned. “That seems a little far-fetched, don’t you think?”

 

“What is?” Dawn looked from Spike to Wesley. “What’s going on?”

 

“We don’t know, Dawn,” Spike said quietly. “But we’re going to figure it out. I can promise you that. Now, why don’t you go watch TV. I’ll bet there are some Saturday morning cartoons still on.”  


She glared at him. “I’m not a baby.”

 

He raised one eyebrow coolly. “No? Then I’m sure you’ll understand that we need some time to talk and to decide on the best course of action, and you’ve given us all the help you can.”

 

Willow was impressed when Dawn nodded and slipped out of the room. Within a few seconds, they heard the television. “Okay, how much experience do you have with teenagers?” Willow asked in a low voice.

 

Spike shrugged. “I’ve corralled a few in my day.” He turned to Wesley. “Whether she’s the key or not—and I’m not convinced that she is—our first step is to decide what we’re going to do about her.”

 

“If she _is_ the key, we have to protect her, and to do that, we’ll have to keep her close.”

 

“That goes without saying.” Spike gave Wes a sour look. “But how would you suggest we do that? From what I can tell, she keeps insisting that she’s someone we all know doesn’t exist.”

 

“Maybe that’s who she is.” Willow knew she was going out on a limb. “Sherlock Holmes would say that once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

 

“I don’t have a sister.” Buffy was clearly exasperated. “At least not yet. And when Mom has her baby, he or she won’t be fourteen!”

 

Willow leaned forward. “You don’t remember a sister. None of us remember you having a sister. That doesn’t mean that Dawn wasn’t made to be your sister.”

 

Wesley leaned back in his chair. “What do you suggest, Willow?”

 

“Two things: science and magic. I think we should do a DNA test to see if she’s some relation to you. At the same time, we can figure out if someone put a spell on her. _She_ thinks she’s your sister. So, either someone took a girl and made her think that, or somebody made _her_.”

 

Wesley let out a low whistle. “That would be some incredibly powerful magicks either way.”

 

“That makes it imperative that we find out what’s going on.” Spike’s eyes glittered. “I want to be prepared—and I’m getting a little tired of having my head messed with.”

 

“I’ll talk to Tara,” Willow said. “She can help Wes figure out what’s going on magically. I’ll take care of the DNA tests.”

 

Buffy’s eyebrows rose. “You can do that?”

 

Willow grinned. “I can do all kinds of things.”

 

~~~~~

 

Giles put the newly purchased books in one of the sacks emblazoned with the name of his shop. “Come again!” he called, trying to sound cheerful as the elderly woman left.

 

Glancing at the clock, he realized that Anya should be in at any moment to relieve him. He was supposed to meet Joyce to spend a quiet afternoon together. Between their businesses and Slayer business, such moments were all too rare.

 

Anya breezed through the door right on time. “Hello.”

 

“Anya. Thank you for coming in early.”

 

“You’re the one paying me,” she pointed out cheerfully.

 

The bell above the door rang again, and this time Wesley strode in, the expression on his face not boding well for Giles’ plans for a quiet, celebratory evening in. “What’s wrong, Wesley?”

 

“Is there a place we can talk?”

 

“Come back to the stock room. Anya?”

 

“I’ll take care of it.” She stuffed her purse in a cabinet and took his seat on the stool behind the counter while Giles led Wesley to the back of the store.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“We have a small problem.” Wesley sighed. “What do you know about revealing spells already in place?”

 

Giles ran a hand through his hair, giving it some thought. “What I know is mostly theoretical. There are ways to do it, of course, and I know of a few sources you might start with, but I have no hands-on knowledge, I’m afraid.”

 

“That’s fine. If you could point us in the right direction, we could at least make a start at it.”

 

“What’s going on, Wesley?”

 

Wesley ran a hand through already-disheveled hair. Giles realized that his clothing was rumpled, and it didn’t appear as though he’d shaven. Although neither of those things was wholly unusual, he felt a stirring of alarm.

 

This was supposed to have been a quiet afternoon for all of them, and Giles had developed a sixth sense for trouble over his years on the Hellmouth.

 

“A girl showed up on Spike’s doorstep this morning, claiming to be Buffy’s sister and insisting that he was supposed to protect her. As you can imagine, we are all somewhat confused.”

 

Giles frowned. “Buffy doesn’t have a sister.”

 

“That is what we have all said at some point.” Wesley sounded frustrated. “Willow suggested that we examine both the magical and physical evidence. Dawn is convinced that she is telling the truth, just as we are convinced that she is not, so clearly, something strange is going on.”

 

“I see.” In a moment, a thousand possibilities had run through his head, each one more terrible than the last. “Is it possible that this is some sort of Trojan horse?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

 

Wesley’s expression was as grim as it had ever been. “I sincerely hope not, Giles. This girl—well, when you see her you’ll understand. She looks as normal as Buffy or anyone else. To think that someone might have created her, or that they may have twisted a child to their own ends…”

 

It was a horrible thought, but Giles had seen enough horrible things to know that it was possible.

 

“I’ll get you the books you’re most likely to need. What other avenues are you pursuing?”

 

“Willow is seeing about DNA testing,” Wesley replied, following Giles out into the main area of the store. “I appreciate the loan.”

 

“Of course. I don’t know why I haven’t moved most of them to a central location yet.”

 

“Because the store is nearly always open?” Wesley suggested.

 

“Not to everyone.” Giles pulled several volumes from the shelves behind the counter. He kept the rare volumes back there, the ones that weren’t for sale, or that needed to be protected from careless hands.

 

“What are you looking for?” Anya asked, her curiosity piqued by the titles.

 

“Something to reveal spells that have been cast,” Wesley replied absently, already turning the pages in the top volume.

 

Anya frowned. “That’s not the book you’ll need.” She closed it, nearly snapping Wesley’s finger in the cover. “Try this one.”

 

It was the third volume down, and Anya rotated it so that she could read it right side up. “There.”

 

“ _Tirer la couture_?” Wesley read. “Ah, I see!”

 

“Demons hated that spell.” Anya’s voice took on the tone that it did when she was reminiscing. “Cloutier was so cute in his little knickers.”

 

Wesley perked up, entranced by the chance at getting a chance to get a firsthand history lesson. “You knew him?”

 

“Oh, yes. We spent a few nights together, although it was never going to work out.”

 

Anya had a familiar gleam in her eyes, and Giles cleared his throat to interrupt any other revelations—such as sexual predilections or how many orgasms Cloutier had delivered. He’d already learned far too much about Xander, and he had no desire to duplicate the experience, even if the man was long dead.

 

“Have you seen it work before?”

 

Anya shrugged. “I’ve never needed to use it, but I’ve heard enough demons grumbling about it that I have to assume it does. Of course, it requires a trance, and the better you are at dropping into a trance, the clearer you’ll see.”

 

“I can handle it, or I’ll ask Tara to help. She was supposed to come over to research anyway.” He glanced up at Giles. “Do you mind?”

 

“No, go right ahead.” Giles watched Wesley leave the shop, already deep in thought about the mechanics of the spell and the required ingredients. He wondered how it was that he could feel both relieved that some of the burden of being Buffy’s Watcher had been lifted, and so irrelevant, all at the same time.

 

“Xander is going to be upset again,” Anya observed.

 

“Why is that?”

 

“He’s being left out.”

 

“I thought that he was working today.”

 

“He is.” Anya shrugged. “That doesn’t mean he won’t feel left out.”

 

Giles hid a sigh. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

 

~~~~~

 

Xander looked around the spacious apartment, wondering if he should have brought his friends with him.

 

Scratch that. He definitely needed to bring his friends, and Anya, but he’d seen the for rent sign and had gone to the manager’s office on a whim.

 

He had a job. In fact, he was being promoted. It was everything he’d wanted, and it gave him a chance to get out of the basement and make something of his life.

 

Xander was going to prove his father wrong.

 

“This looks great,” he said enthusiastically.

 

“I have the application right here,” the manager replied with a smile, handing him a clipboard. “Would you like to fill it out now?”

 

“Ah…” Xander hesitated. “Actually, I was hoping to come back with my girlfriend if that’s okay.”

 

“You can take the application with you.” Her smile faded, and Xander tried and failed to remember her name. “Just remember that spaces fill up fast.”

 

“Right.”

 

He walked out of the complex still dazed. Xander hadn’t called anyone to tell them the news yet—he’d been too busy working. The new position carried more responsibility, and he was having a hard time picturing himself in that role.

 

How was he supposed to direct others when he felt like a complete idiot himself so much of the time?

 

Glancing at his watch, Xander realized that Anya wouldn’t be off for another couple of hours, but Spike’s place wasn’t too far out of the way. He had to tell someone the good news, and he hoped that they would respond by telling him that it was about time someone recognized his potential.

 

His brisk knock was answered by a girl Xander didn’t recognize, and he had to wonder if he was at the right house, even though he’d been there half a dozen times before. “Hi.”

 

“Hi.” She didn’t move.

 

“Dawn, who is it?” Buffy’s voice reassured Xander that he wasn’t in the wrong place.

 

“It’s me.”

 

“Oh, come in, Xander.” She appeared at the door, a dishtowel in her hands. “We just ate if you’re hungry. There’s some leftover Chinese.”

 

“Sure.” He eyed the girl with ill-disguised curiosity. “I thought you guys were having a quiet day in. I figured you wouldn’t answer the door if you were busy.”

 

“We’re busy, but not that way.” She appeared distracted. “You had to work today, right?”

 

“The boss had a project with a Monday deadline. It was extra money.” Xander was dying to blurt out his news, but he held his tongue. “What’s going on?”

 

“There’s a situation.” The explanation was vague to say the least, and he shifted in the kitchen chair. “The others went out for supplies.” As though realizing that she hadn’t yet made the introductions, Buffy said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Xander, this is Dawn. Dawn, this is Xander.”

 

“Hi.” He knew it was lame to repeat the same greeting he’d used when Dawn had opened the door, but she did the same, wandering out to the living room to go back to watching TV. “What’s going on, Buffy?”

 

“It’s a long story.” She sighed. “There’s a prophecy, we think. You heard about the number the Council did on Spike?”

 

Xander nodded. “Giles filled me in the last time I went by the bookstore. It doesn’t sound good.”

 

“Things are getting more complicated.” Briefly, Buffy told him about Dawn’s arrival on Spike’s doorstep, and what her story was, but Xander could see the problem.

 

“How do we know she’s okay?” he whispered. “She might be, I don’t know, a bomb or something.”

 

“We’re going to do a spell. Tara and Wesley went out for supplies, and Spike went to check some sources he thought could help. Willow took a DNA sample from both of us, and that leaves me here alone. Well, with Dawn.” Buffy looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time since he’d walked in the door. “What brings you by, Xander?”

 

Xander hesitated. In the face of her news, his seemed unimportant, but he knew that Buffy would have the desired reaction. “I got promoted today.”

 

When she threw her arms around his neck with a squeal of delight, Xander returned her embrace with a grin. Maybe his life wasn’t filled with huge, important things as Buffy was, but he was glad to be able to erase her worry, at least for a little while.


	6. Chapter 6

**“…Life has loveliness to sell;/Music like a curve of gold,/Scent of pine trees in the rain,/Eyes that love you, arms that hold,/And, for the Spirit’s still delight,/Holy thoughts that star the night./Give all you have for loveliness;/Buy it, and never count the cost!/For one white, singing hour of peace/Count many a year of strife well lost;/And for a breath of ecstasy,/Give all you have been, or could be.” ~Sara Teasdale, “Barter”**

 

Tara reviewed the supplies and her checklist one more time. Once she began the spell, it would be impossible to stop without having to start fresh. She glanced up to find the others watching her with varying degrees of intensity.

 

“I think we’re ready,” she said quietly.

 

“Do you want to be the one to do it?” Wesley asked. “Or shall I?”

 

Tara looked from him to Willow, wondering what the spell would reveal, if anything, about herself. “I can do it if you don’t want to,” Willow offered.

 

“I can do it.” Tara took a deep, cleansing breath. “I’m going to need quiet.”

 

“Why don’t you use the spare bedroom?” Spike suggested. “You can come out here whenever you’re ready.”

 

Tara followed his suggestion, heading back to the spare bedroom that Spike occasionally used as a home office. She already suspected what the result of the spell would be; Dawn was certain about some things, vague about many others.

 

As far as Tara could tell, the girl was a construct—a very good one. Dawn’s purpose was yet to be determined.

 

Clearing her mind of worries and thoughts was more difficult than it usually was. Her birthday was edging ever nearer, and that knowledge was an impediment to dropping into the required trance.

 

Eventually, however, Tara managed to clear her thoughts, focusing on her breathing, the smell of the ritual smoke, the desire to pull the curtain back, to see magic. When her eyes opened, everything had a fuzzy look. She almost felt as though she was swimming underwater.

 

Rising from her spot on the floor, Tara caught sight of herself in the mirror, freezing in place. “Oh.” The sound escaped from her lips and she put a hand to her cheek, faintly pulsing with life.

 

She was glowing a little, and for one, brief moment Tara thought, “I’m beautiful.”

 

Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought, knowing that she had a duty. Opening the door and stepping out into the hallway, everything looked the same—a little indistinct, but there was no trace of magic until she got out into the living room.

 

Spike was surrounded by a faint golden cloud, like a halo. In fact, if Tara hadn’t known better, she might have suspected that he was some sort of angel, but the light had an underlying darkness.

 

Dawn, on the other hand, was solid, with no hint of magic about her. Tara blinked. That couldn’t be right—unless someone had tampered with the memories of a girl who already existed. If Dawn was constructed, Tara thought she should have been able to see some sign of that.

 

Without thinking about it, Tara spoke the words of a spell her mother had taught her when she was a child, the words for clear sight. Normally, she never would have combined two spells like that without at least doing some research on the possible consequences, but it felt right.

 

She wasn’t expecting to pass out from the vision she gained.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn’s memories were a jumble. She remembered standing on a corner near her house, but she couldn’t remember what her house looked like, although she thought that she’d be able to recognize it if she saw it. She had recognized Spike and Buffy when she’d seen them, and she would know her mom and Giles if she saw them.

 

She had only vague recollections of Buffy’s friends, but she knew that they’d talked about the Mayflower in history class the previous day, and _Romeo and Juliet_ was the next subject in her literature class.

 

Dawn could remember some things but not others, as though bits and pieces of her life had been erased. But the scariest part, the worst part, was that no one remembered her, as though she’d never existed.

 

Buffy and Spike had been nice but impersonal, as though they didn’t really know her, but she guessed that maybe they didn’t.

 

Tara seemed nice enough, and she was supposed to be doing a spell that would explain everything. Some part of Dawn’s brain knew that magic wasn’t exactly normal, that most people would view it as make believe and myth, but she knew that it was real.

 

How did she know? Dawn wondered silently as Tara wandered out, looking a little dazed. For a moment, nothing really happened. Tara didn’t say anything as she stared at Spike, but when she looked at Dawn, she appeared—frustrated.

 

Tara snapped the words out, and then her eyes went wide before rolling back in her head. She would have collapsed if Wesley hadn’t leaped forward and caught her.

 

“What was that?” Dawn demanded.

 

“That was a system overload,” Wesley replied, lowering Tara’s body gently to the floor. “She saw something she wasn’t ready to see.”

 

“About me?” Dawn asked, hearing the squeak of impending hysteria in her own voice.

 

“We won’t know until she wakes up.” Spike put a comforting hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright, Dawn.”

 

“How?” She was beginning to wonder what she was, and who she was, when she’d thought she’d known before.

 

“It’s okay, Dawnie,” Buffy soothed. “We’re going to find out what’s going on, okay? We’re going to take care of you.”

 

Spike looked at Wes. “Carry her into our bedroom, Wes. She can recover in there.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Willow followed him back, and Buffy pulled Dawn onto the couch next to her. “It’s okay, Dawn. We’ll get this figured out, I promise.”

 

Dawn only wished she could believe that.

 

~~~~~

 

Willow looked across Tara’s still figure to catch Wesley’s eyes. “What do you think happened?”

 

“It’s hard to say.” He put two fingers on one side of her neck. “I think she’s okay. Her pulse is steady, and her breathing is even. It’s only a matter of time before she recovers, and Tara is a strong woman.”

 

“Yeah, she’s a tough cookie.” She was quiet for a long moment. “What do you think this is about, Wes? Do you think it really has something to do with the prophecy?”

 

“I don’t know. I haven’t yet translated the entire thing, so I don’t know how Spike’s identity as guardian plays into the greater whole, or what Dawn’s role in it might be.” He rubbed his eyes. “Obviously, the Council is worried about what Spike may or may not do, and they wanted to control his reaction.”

 

Willow thought about it for a moment. “It seems like too much of a coincidence that Dawn would show up now. We have a prophecy from the Council and a geas put on Spike, plus the prophecy that Robert found.”

 

“I would agree, but we’ll have to wait until Tara wakes up. With any luck, she’ll have information that allows us to put the pieces together.”

 

They were silent after that, each lost in their own thoughts. Willow knew that they could have gone out to join the others, but she didn’t want Tara to wake up alone, just in case she was disoriented.

 

About fifteen minutes after they had brought her to the bedroom, Tara’s eyelids began to flutter. Tara moaned slightly.

 

“Tara?” Willow called. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah.” She put a hand to her head. “I think I have the mother of all hangovers, though.”

 

“I’ll check with Spike and Buffy to see if they have something for that.”

 

Willow waited until Wesley was gone before she said, “You look pretty shaken, Tara.”

 

“I saw something I wasn’t expecting.” Tara sat up slowly. “I—I have something I need to tell you, and Wesley.”

 

“Okay,” Willow said, sensing her distress. “We’ll talk later, for sure.”

 

Wesley came back in with a glass of water and a bottle of pills. “Here you are.”

 

“Thanks.” Once Tara had taken a couple of pills, she rose. “I don’t know if Dawn should be here for this.”

 

Willow frowned. “I’m not sure how we’re supposed to send her away. She knows that you were looking for something, and she has to know that you found it, given the way you passed out.”

 

Tara raised her eyebrows. “Trust me on this one, Will. This is a conversation that we need to have with the whole gang before we say anything to Dawn. It will be too much for her.”

 

Willow was slightly taken aback by Tara’s tone. She sounded more sure of herself than Willow was used to when dealing with the other witch. Tara had always been a little hesitant, a little reserved. She wasn’t right now.

 

“We’ll get her out of here,” Wesley said soothingly. “If you think it’s best.”

 

“I do.” Tara took a deep breath. “Tell her that I’m too tired to talk to anybody right now, and that we’ll tell her everything later.”

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Wesley promised.

 

Willow laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “What happened, Tara?”

 

“I saw more than I bargained for.” Tara took a deep breath. “You may want to tell Buffy and Spike that Dawn isn’t dangerous. She is exactly what she appears to be—more or less.”

 

“More or less?” Wesley inquired.

 

Tara smiled. “Yes, exactly.”

 

~~~~~

 

Joyce had been planning on a quiet afternoon with Giles, just enjoying his company and possibly enjoying her raging hormones while they were still raging.

 

She only wished she was surprised to get Buffy’s call.

 

“I’m really sorry to bother you, Mom, but we have a situation.”

 

“Why am I not surprised?” she muttered. “I’m sorry, Buffy. What do you need?”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Buffy said. “Everybody had their Saturday interrupted. It’s—it’s been a long day already.” She sighed. “A girl showed up at Spike’s door today. She says her name is Dawn Summers, and she’s my sister.”

 

Joyce was silent for a moment. “Excuse me?”

 

“That’s what I said, too. We’re trying to piece everything together, but until then, we need somewhere for her to go. We don’t have any other identification for her, so until we find out who she really is—”

 

“She’s your responsibility.” Joyce respected Buffy’s dedication; she just wished that it didn’t spill over quite so often. “Bring her over here. We’ll look after her.”

 

“I’m really sorry, Mom. I know you had a quiet day planned with Giles.”

 

“It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. I’m happy to help.”

 

Well, “happy” might have been too strong a word, but Joyce was prepared to do what she could for her daughter.

 

~~~~~

 

“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.” Spike leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Let’s hear it. What do we know? Who is this girl?”

 

“She’s not a girl,” Tara said quietly. “Or more specifically, she wasn’t always a girl.”

 

Buffy was on her feet, pacing. “She sure as hell looks like a girl. What is she?”

 

“She is, essentially, a container for a lot of energy.” Tara sipped her tea. “She’s definitely a real girl, and creating her took a lot of energy, probably changed from what she was before.”

 

“Let’s get this straight, then,” Spike said, beginning to get very annoyed. “Is she, or isn’t she, human?”

 

“Yes and no.” Tara hesitated. “Is ice still water?”

 

“It’s water in another form, just like steam is,” Willow said.

 

“She’s energy, but she’s energy in human form, and I can guarantee that Dawn had no control over what happened. She did not create herself; someone created her.”

 

Buffy suddenly frowned. “It went wrong.”

 

“What, luv?” Spike asked.

 

Buffy shook her head. “It went wrong. Think about it, Spike. No one would make someone, create a whole person, without some sort of a purpose. Clearly, part of her purpose involves us, because she came here. Even though Dawn doesn’t know much, she knew to come here.”

 

“My guess is that someone meant to create a whole person, including memories, a background, everything, and I suspect that they meant to create a place for her, too. Something went wrong,” Tara speculated.

 

“I’ll say.” Xander spoke up for the first time. “And I’d just like to point out, in case no one else has thought of it yet, Dawn thought that Spike was going to protect her.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Is that so hard to believe, Harris?”

 

“No, but it means that there’s something or someone you’re supposed to protect her from.”

 

Spike rubbed his hands over his face. He really didn’t like where this was going; it had apocalypse written all over it. “We know she’s an innocent, that someone or something is likely going to come after her, and that we have no idea who or what created her in the first place.” He looked around the room. “Does that about sum it up?”

 

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do right now,” Willow said. “Not until we know more.”

 

Spike rose. “Wesley, I want you to work on those prophecies night and day until you know them inside and out. I don’t know that they’ll give us direction, but I’d at least like to know what the Council is so worried about me doing.” He looked at Willow and Tara. “You two need to work on Dawn. I think we need to know everything we can. A spell like that can’t be easy; maybe you can figure out who could have possibly cast it.”

 

“What about me?” Xander asked.

 

Spike looked at him, feeling something akin to affection for the young man. Xander might not have the skills that the rest of them possessed, but he had heart, and Spike could respect that.

 

“I could use your help getting her paperwork together,” Spike admitted. He looked over at Buffy. “She thinks she’s your sister, and I think that might be the best sort of fiction we can construct.”

 

“How?” Buffy asked. “Nobody knows about her. How are we supposed to pull that off?”

 

Spike smiled grimly. “We make her your half-sister.”

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn had been in Sunnydale a total of five days, and she was already bored to tears. She was very good at blending in, but she was better at fighting vampires and demons. Her parents might not have been thrilled by her career choice, but Quinn wanted to be part of the elite Council team sent out to deal with the worst sort of problems.

 

As long as the problem wasn’t a rogue Slayer. From what Quinn understood, Buffy might not be exactly orthodox, but she ran a tight ship. Sunnydale was a squeaky clean town compared to most Hellmouths.

 

“Why couldn’t I have been sent to Cleveland?” she muttered. “I could have watched Brynn’s back.”

 

Her sister was fourteen, and could use all the supervision the Council could spare. At least their parents had been allowed to go with her, rather than Brynn being farmed out to another Watcher. That would have hurt.

 

Quinn leaped to the top of a gravestone, looking around the cemetery for any sign of the undead. “Come on,” she muttered. “Not even one little vampire?”

 

“They say you should be careful what you wish for.”

 

Quinn froze, then turned slowly. “Dracula.”

 

“I see you know me.” His eyes were mesmerizing as he stepped closer. “Strange, I thought you’d be taller.”

 

“Taller?” she repeated, nonplussed.

 

“As the Slayer. I came to see you. Your reputation spreads far and wide, and I have business with William the Bloody.”

 

Quinn knew better than to meet his eyes, which is why she kept her gaze set on a spot just beyond his right shoulder. Dracula apparently thought that she was the Slayer, and while she could correct him, that would likely lead to him trying to kill her.

 

Besides, Travers wanted her to spy on the _real_ Slayer, right? What better way to finagle a meeting than to pass herself off as a demon hunter? What Slayer in her right mind would pass up that kind of help?

 

Quinn crossed her arms over her chest. “You know what they say about small packages.”

 

“Indeed.” Before she could move, Dracula was stroking her cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

 

He was gone in a flurry of wings as a bat flew away from the spot he’d occupied only a moment before. Quinn made a face. “Gross. I hate bats.”

 

She’d have to stay in school, of course. Travers hated it when his plans got changed, and Quinn had heard stories about what happened when the Council head was brassed off. But what he didn’t know certainly wouldn’t hurt him.

 

Quinn whistled as she continued walking through the cemetery, planning how she was going to deal with Dracula, arrange a meeting with Buffy, and avoid Travers finding out that she had changed the plan.

 

It looked like she was going to be very busy.


	7. Chapter 7

**“Life is a night all dark and wild,/Yet still stars shine:/This moment is a star, my child—/Your star and mine./Life is a desert dry and drear,/Undewed, unblest;/This hour is an oasis, dear;/Here let us rest./Life is a sea of windy spray,/Cold, fierce and free:/An isle enchanted is to-day/For you and me./Forget night, sea, and desert: take/The gift supreme,/And, of life’s brief relenting, make/A deathless dream.” ~E. Nesbit, “The Gift of Life”**

 

Dawn knew Joyce as “Mom,” so it was beyond weird to be introduced to her again. “I know who she is.”

 

“Dawn,” Buffy sighed. “Please.”

 

“It’s okay, Buffy,” Joyce said. “Don’t worry about us. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

 

Dawn had no idea what to call her. Was she Joyce? Was she Mom? Was she Mrs. Summers? Any hope she’d had of being recognized had died when the front door had opened, and Joyce had worn an expression of pleasant concern. There had been no recognition in her eyes, and that had hurt.

 

“I was going to make cookies,” Joyce said. “Would you like to help me?”

 

Dawn buried her hurt and raised her chin. There was nothing she could do now; there was nowhere else she could go. She just had to make the best of it. “What kind of cookies?”

 

~~~~~

 

“You need to rest, Wesley.”

 

Tara was the one who spoke. Willow had already fallen asleep on the couch, but he had taken Spike’s words to heart. He was close to a breakthrough in his translation efforts, he knew it. “I’m close, Tara.”

 

“You’re exhausted, and therefore more prone to making mistakes.”

 

He rubbed his face with his hands, wishing that she wasn’t right. “Only if you do the same,” he replied.

 

“I’ve been waiting on you.”

 

Wesley smiled, looking at her with a sort of wonder. He rose from his seat and clasped her shoulder with a brotherly affection. “You are a treasure, Tara.”

 

She flushed, looking away from him. “Wesley…”

 

He interrupted her, knowing that she would only deny what he knew to be true. “Why don’t you join Willow in the bedroom? I know she won’t mind, and I can take the couch.”

 

She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Good night.”

 

Wesley waited until the bedroom door had closed behind Tara before stretching out on the couch with Robert’s prophecy. He _was_ tired, but he didn’t think he would be able to sleep.

 

There was too much information swirling around in his head for sleep.

 

“Okay, really?” Willow stood next to the couch, hands on her hips.

 

“I thought you were sleeping,” Wesley replied, sitting up and putting his book aside.

 

Willow perched on the edge of the couch. “I woke up when Tara came in, and she said that you were going to sleep.”

 

“I don’t know that I can.” Wesley sighed. “There’s so much going on here, Willow, and I just can’t figure out how this prophecy fits in. There’s a word there that I can’t translate—”

 

Willow interrupted by pressing her lips to his, her tongue slipping inside, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. All thoughts of the prophecy went out of his head; Wesley couldn’t even remember what the word was that he was having trouble translating.

 

“Forget the prophecy,” Willow murmured against his mouth.

 

“As you wish.” Wesley buried his face in her hair, her scent intoxicating him.

 

Willow stretched out on top of him, nuzzling his neck, and Wesley began to relax for the first time in days. “Sleep,” she whispered.

 

“After you.” Wesley’s eyes fluttered closed, and he was out in moments, belying his words.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy had not planned on spending her Saturday evening like this—with Xander, Anya, and Spike, cooking up an identity for a half-sister she’d never had.

 

“You want to make Dawn my father’s daughter?” Buffy leaned back in her chair. “Do you really think that’s going to work?”

 

“She looks enough like you to pass for it.”

 

“And I look like my mother, not my father,” Buffy insisted, glaring at Spike.

 

He sighed. “If you’ve got a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”

 

“It works, Buffy,” Xander said quietly. “It’s not unheard of for a man to have a kid he’s barely heard of. It doesn’t work if she’s your mom’s daughter.”

 

“Agreed,” Buffy replied. “But that doesn’t mean anybody is going to buy it.”

 

“They will if you have all your documents in order,” Anya asserted. “I’ve done this a hundred times, Buffy. People don’t ask questions as long as everything looks good. If Dawn says that she’s your father’s daughter, and that’s what her birth certificate says, no one will ask questions.”

 

“We still have to explain why my mom would take in my dad’s illegitimate kid,” Buffy said, looking at Spike as she said it. “Dad might be in Spain, and maybe he doesn’t want her, but why would Mom?”

 

“No other family but you, you’re not ready to take in a teenage kid, Joyce felt bad about letting her go into the system.” Spike shrugged. “It wouldn’t be unheard of. The only other option is for you to take her, and your mum wants you to finish college.”

 

Buffy pushed her hair behind her ears, feeling both weary and angry all at once. “I don’t understand this at all. She’s completely defenseless. Why transfer all that energy into physical form? Into a teenage girl?”

 

“What would you protect with your life?” Anya asked simply.

 

“My family.” Buffy hissed out a breath. “Or another person. But especially my family.”

 

Anya nodded. “No one protects property the way they protect people.”

 

“Okay, so we know that whoever created Dawn wanted her protected—by Buffy because of the sister angle, and by Spike because Dawn knew to come here.” Xander frowned. “I doubt it was the Council they were trying to hide her from.”

 

“We keep our eyes peeled,” Spike said quietly. “But until then, nothing about Dawn gets out. We’ll get the paperwork handled, but no one outside our circle knows. No one even breathes a word about Dawn being something other than Buffy’s sister who’s come to stay because her dad is a rat bastard.” He glanced at Buffy. “No offense.”

 

“None taken. You’re not far wrong.” She looked at Xander and Anya. “Thanks for helping out, you guys.”

 

“Let us know if you need anything else,” Xander replied. “Just say the word, Buffy.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

They left, leaving Buffy alone with Spike for the first time since Dawn had arrived that morning. She glanced at the clock, thankful that her mom had agreed to keep the teen overnight. It was well after 2 am, and while they knew little more than they had before, they at least had a plan and a list of things Dawn would need.

 

Spike grabbed her hand, tugging her into the bedroom and pushing her onto the bed. “First we sleep, then we worry about the Little Bit.”

 

“What are we going to do, Spike?”

 

“We’re going to do what we always do, luv. We’re going to win this fight no matter who we’re up against.”

 

“God, Spike. That poor kid.” Buffy buried her face in his chest. “I mean, my life is bad enough, but Dawn…”

 

“This is not your fault, pet, and we’ll get the Dawn situation sorted.”

 

“I know.” Buffy pushed herself up, her lips finding Spike’s. “We’ll make it through this.”

 

She’d hoped that their lovemaking would tire her out enough to let her sleep, but although Spike passed out immediately, Buffy lay staring at the ceiling. The Slayer dream she’d had kept haunting her.

 

Who would she lose? Buffy wondered silently. What was at stake? How could she save those she loved without knowing who or what threatened them?

 

After about an hour of lying there, she rose and threw on her discarded clothing. A good hunt might clear her head. She could hope, anyway.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Go back to sleep, Spike.”

 

“Vampire, here. I need less sleep than you do, pet.”

 

“I’m just going hunting.”

 

“I’ll go with you.”

 

“You were asleep.”

 

“I’m not anymore.” He rolled out of bed and reached for his pants. “I’m going with you.”

 

“Spike—”

 

“Buffy.” He raised his scarred eyebrow just before pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I slept for an hour. I’m good.”

 

“I hardly think an hour is enough.”

 

“It is for me.” He finished lacing up his boots, using his speed to his advantage. “Right. Let’s go.”

 

“Thanks,” she said softly as they exited the house.

 

He slung an arm over her shoulders. “It’s my job to watch your back, right?”

 

“And you do such a good job,” she replied slyly.

 

He grinned broadly. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” The night was relatively quiet, and they walked hand in hand through Restfield. It was their venue of choice when they wanted a stroll rather than a good fight.

 

“William the Bloody. I had heard you were with the Slayer.”

 

They turned at the same time, and Buffy saw a tall, dark-haired vampire in a cape. “Excuse me?”

 

“Dracula.” The single word was filled with contempt, and Buffy looked at Spike in surprise. She’d had no idea that Dracula actually existed. “What are you doing in my town?”

 

“We have unfinished business, William.” Dracula’s strange eyes moved to her, and Buffy knew that he was undressing her in his mind. He wanted to own her, and it pissed her off. “And who is your companion?”

 

“I’m the Slayer,” Buffy said before Spike could reply. “You may want to leave town before I kill you.”

 

“The Slayer?” Dracula appeared both surprised and delighted. “There are two of you here? I may be staying longer than anticipated.” He smiled. “Watch for me.”

 

Dracula was gone in the flutter of bat wings, and Buffy grimaced. “Gross. I hate bats.”

 

“What the bloody hell did that poofter mean? Two Slayers?”

 

“We knew that there would be a replacement for Faith,” Buffy said quietly. “I would have expected that the Council would have told us if they were sending her here, though.”

 

Spike snorted. “Unless she’s not here to help, but to inform. Sending another Slayer might be the Council’s way of making sure I deliver the key.”

 

Buffy knew that he was probably right. Chances were that the Council had taken steps to ensure Spike’s cooperation, even beyond placing the geas on him. “We keep an eye out, then,” she said slowly.

 

“There’s nothing else we can do under the circumstances,” Spike agreed. “But if we find out who’s working for the Council, I think we can assume they’re an enemy.”

 

Buffy couldn’t fault Spike’s logic after what Travers had done to him, and she was inclined to agree—no one currently working for the Council got the benefit of the doubt.

 

~~~~~

 

“Dracula? He’s real?”

 

“Of course he’s real,” Spike replied, sounding disgruntled. “How do you think everyone figured out how to kill vampires?”

 

Willow was still stuck on the fact that Dracula existed. “But I thought he was just a legend.”

 

“He’s a poncy bugger, is what he is. Can we get back to the real point?”

 

“And what is the real point, Spike?” Wesley inquired, not looking up from the research materials he’d brought along with him.

 

“The real point is that we’ve got a second Slayer running around, and we have no idea who she is or what her business is.”

 

Tara cleared her throat. “I can prevent anyone from putting a geas on you again, Spike.”

 

Willow thought she saw relief flash across Spike’s face before he became deadpan. “I’d appreciate that, Glinda.”

 

“I’ll work on that,” Tara promised.

 

“Do you think we could do some kind of locator spell?” Willow asked. “If she’s a Slayer—”

 

Wesley shook his head. “There’s no way to single out what element it is that makes a girl a Slayer, and even if there were, Buffy’s presence would be likely to corrupt the results.” He looked over at Willow. “And if Dawn is at all related to Buffy by blood—”

 

“I finished the DNA tests,” Willow confirmed. “Dawn and Buffy are definitely related. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were twins.”

 

“How is that possible?” Buffy demanded.

 

Willow shrugged. “They had to make her out of something other than energy, Buffy. They probably managed to get a sample of your blood or hair or something.”

 

“You can make a construct out of almost anything,” Tara confirmed. “But it was probably blood. The purer the sample, the better the outcome.”

 

Buffy looked grossed out. “I guess I bleed enough.”

 

“That’s it!”

 

Willow couldn’t help but grin at Wesley’s cry of triumph. He was so cute when he got excited. “Did you have a breakthrough?”

 

“The word I couldn’t figure out. It’s ‘blood.’ The key is blood.” Wesley went back to scribbling. “Hang on. I’ve almost got it.”

 

Willow leaned back in her seat and looked over at Buffy. They had met up at Spike’s place to discuss the situation. “Where’s Dawn?” she whispered to Buffy.

 

“Still with Mom,” Buffy replied. “Dawn seems really comfortable there, and she still thinks of Mom as…well, her mom.”

 

Willow looked hopeful. “Maybe that’s a good thing. It might make it easier to hide the fact that she just showed up on the scene.”

 

“We’re getting her papers in order. She can start school in the next few days.” Spike rubbed his hands over his face. “I suppose if she doesn’t stay with Joyce and Rupert, she can have the spare room here.”

 

“That might not be such a good idea.” Tara looked apologetic. “Sorry, Spike, but I’m not sure that you guys would really want a teenager around. Not that you couldn’t handle it, just that it might not be the best solution.”

 

“No, it’s definitely not the best solution,” Buffy agreed. “But Mom and Giles are getting ready for the new baby. They might not want to handle her either.”

 

“Especially Giles,” Willow said with a wry smile. “I love Giles, but I don’t think that teenage girls are really his thing.”

 

“Teenage girls are definitely not Giles’ thing.” Buffy smiled nostalgically.

 

Spike smirked. “It might be good for him to have Dawn around.”

 

“Here it is.” Wesley ripped a sheet of paper from the pad. “I have the translation done. As we suspected, the scroll that Robert gave us contained the same prophecy that the Council had. The difference is that the Council’s prophecy is incomplete, either because they didn’t want us to have it or they don’t have a complete copy themselves.”

 

“Don’t keep the suspense going, Wes,” Spike said. “What does the prophecy say?”

 

“The language is rather flowery, but as best I can tell, it says that the key will come to the guardian, a vampire with a soul.” Wesley was reading off the paper, and Willow knew from experience that he was having difficulty deciphering his own scribbled notes. “Should the guardian fail, the key will bleed—that part wasn’t in the Council’s document, by the way—and the walls between the world will disappear. Armageddon will come, the Beast will rise, and Hell shall reign over all the worlds.”

 

Buffy made a face. “That doesn’t sound good.”

 

“Seems to me that I’d fail pretty quick if I was out of commission,” Spike observed. “I’m not around, they destroy the Key, and prevent the whole apocalypse.”

 

Wesley shook his head. “There’s more. One of the sections in Robert’s scroll, but not in the other, says that the fate of the world will rest on the choice of the guardian.”

 

“A choice of what?” Buffy asked.

 

Wesley looked grim. “Of evils, from what I can tell. Should he fail, the only way to save the world would be to spill the blood of the key.”

 

“If her blood tears down the dimensional walls, why would Spike hurt her?” Tara asked.

 

Wesley sighed. “It’s unclear, but as best as I can tell, if Dawn’s blood is spilled at the appointed time, the world will come to an end—until she stops bleeding.”

 

Willow thought that Spike spoke for them all when he said, “Then I suppose we’d better make sure that she doesn’t get so much as a skinned knee.”


	8. Chapter 8

**“If I could keep my innermost Me/Fearless, aloof and free/Of the least breath of love or hate,/And not disconsolate/At the sick load of sorrow laid on men;/If I could keep a sanctuary there/Free even of prayer,/If I could do this, then,/With quiet candor as I grew more wise/I could look even at God with forgiving eyes.” ~Sara Teasdale, “The Sanctuary”**

 

Xander opened the apartment door for Anya and let her precede him inside. “So, what do you think?”

 

“You want to get this apartment?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“And you want me to move in with you.”

 

Xander wondered why that sounded almost like a trick question. “If you want to. I just thought it was the next step.”

 

Anya spun slowly, looking around the apartment. “This place is beautiful, Xander.”

 

“You like it, then?”

 

“I love it!” With a squeal of delight, Anya threw her arms his neck, giving him an enthusiastic kiss that Xander was loath to break off.

 

“Not here, hon,” he whispered into her ear. “We’ll christen the place as soon as I put the deposit down.”

 

She pulled back. “Promise?”

 

“Definitely.” Xander had the check written. He’d just been waiting for Anya’s opinion before finalizing the rental. “We’ve got to make a stop by Spike’s place. I have something to drop off.”

 

“What are you doing for Spike?” Anya asked as they walked out of the apartment.

 

The manager was waiting in the hallway for them, and Xander handed her his completed application and a check. “Thanks for meeting us today.”

 

“I’m always happy to help,” the manager said cheerfully. “I’ll call you within the next couple of days to let you know when you can move in. You did say that sooner was better than later, right?”

 

“That’s right.” Xander smiled. “My current living situation isn’t great.”

 

“I’ll do what I can.”

 

He waited until they were in his car before replying to Anya’s question. “I have some documents for Dawn. Spike wanted to get her into school as soon as possible.”

 

“Why?” Anya asked. “Wouldn’t it be safer to keep her home?”

 

Xander shook his head. “No, not according to Spike. He wants her to be as normal as possible, to fit in with everybody else.”

 

“She’s a big ball of energy,” Anya replied. “How is she going to do that?”

 

He grimaced. “Well, from what I’ve heard, she’s taking the whole being a normal teen thing to heart.”

 

~~~~~

 

“But why can’t I wear that?” Dawn demanded.

 

Buffy was finding new respect for her mother’s struggles years ago over what she was going to wear. Dawn had to have more clothes, since whoever or whatever created her hadn’t seen fit to create an entire wardrobe. Although Joyce had run out and grabbed a few things on Sunday, this was the first chance they’d had to do any real shopping.

 

And Buffy was finding it to be more of a chore than she ever found shopping to be.

 

“Because I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to spend one hundred dollars on a pair of jeans,” Joyce replied patiently.

 

“Spike has the money,” Dawn replied, sounding exactly like a bratty teen.

 

Joyce smiled. “Spike was kind enough to help you out. Do you really want to take advantage of that?”

 

Buffy was amazed at how her mother managed to lay such a big guilt trip even though she’d said so very little. Dawn’s shoulders immediately slumped, and she sighed. “No, I don’t.”

 

“The last pair you tried on looked really good.” Buffy was trying to be helpful, remembering how important it had been for her to have the right clothes—still was, now that she thought about it. “And I really like that shirt.”

 

Dawn looked down at the red t-shirt with the silver abstract design she wore. “You think so?”

 

“It looks fine, Dawn.” Joyce shifted slightly in her chair. “Why don’t you go change? I think we’ve exhausted our options here.”

 

Buffy waited until Dawn had disappeared back into the dressing room. “Was I ever that much trouble?”

 

Joyce smiled. Buffy recognized that expression as “mother knows best,” and she suddenly knew what Joyce’s answer would be. “Oh, sweetheart, you were more trouble than that.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“You were worth it.”

 

Buffy leaned against her mother’s arm. “Are you guys okay with this?” She didn’t need to specify what she was referring to; she knew her mother would know.

 

“It did change our plans,” Joyce responded, keeping her voice low. “But I think we’ll make it work. We’ll have to for her sake.”

 

Dawn emerged from the dressing rooms just then, the clothing she’d selected hanging over one arm. “Okay, I’m ready,” she announced.

 

“Good, because I’m getting hungry,” Buffy said.

 

“That reminds me. Rupert promised to make dinner tonight. You and Spike are welcome to join us, Buffy.”

 

“I’ll give him a call and ask,” she replied. “I think he had talked about looking for Dracula this evening.”

 

“Dracula is real?” Dawn asked, suddenly breathless with excitement.

 

Buffy bit back a sigh, remembering that Willow’s reaction had been similar. Of course, if she was being honest with herself, she’d been rather excited to know that the famous vampire was not a myth, and only Spike’s presence had caused her to hold back.

 

“Yes, he’s real, and no, you’re not going to be seeing him. The only vampire I want you getting close to is Spike.”

 

Dawn shrugged. “Fine by me.”

 

The way she said it told Buffy that the girl someone had created to be her little sister already had a crush on Spike. Not that she could blame Dawn, exactly. But teenage crushes ranged from harmless to serious pain in the ass, and she didn’t know Dawn well enough to tell which way it was going to go.

 

So it was probably a really good thing that Dawn would be living with her mother and Giles. Of her friends, she didn’t think anyone but Willow had ever had a crush on her Watcher.

 

Buffy was in the middle of paying for Dawn’s new clothes with Spike’s credit card when she noticed Joyce putting a hand to her abdomen. “Are you okay?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

 

Joyce nodded. “The baby’s kicking. I think that he or she is going to be very active.”

 

Buffy realized with a strange sort of longing that she would never experience that—she would never be pregnant. Not only did being the Slayer preclude motherhood, but Spike couldn’t have children.

 

And she suddenly remembered the same sharp disappointment that had hit her when Angel had told her—vampires couldn’t have children, not the normal way.

 

She met her mother’s eyes, and Joyce’s expression went soft as she put a hand on Buffy’s arm, a gentle gesture of understanding.

 

Buffy smiled, feeling the sadness fade. She had made her choice, and she still felt that it was worth it.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike opened the door for Xander and Anya, ushering them inside. “Thanks for making the pickup for me, Harris.”

 

“It wasn’t a problem,” he said. “I was in the area.”

 

“Why would Xander need to pick up the documents? You still have the ring don’t you?” Anya asked.

 

“I do,” Spike replied patiently, not minding Anya’s questions. She was blunt, and she tended to let you know exactly what she was feeling. He found it refreshing. “But this is the sort of trade that I’d rather not make too often.”

 

“I’m not going to get into trouble, am I?”

 

It was the first time that Xander had asked the question, something that Spike appreciated. The truth was that Spike could have easily made the exchange on his own, but the young man had wanted to be involved. Spike didn’t mind giving him a job to do, and Xander had been in the area.

 

“These are as legitimate as fake papers get,” Spike replied.

 

“But they’re fake.”

 

“No one will ever know.”

 

“Let’s just make sure no one ever does.” Xander glanced around. “Where’s Buffy?”

 

“Shopping with Dawn and Joyce. Something about Dawn needing clothes.” Spike shrugged. “I was just happy not to have to go along.” He looked from Xander to Anya. “You two got a hot date tonight?”

 

“Xander promised me orgasms.” Anya was as blunt as ever, and she eyed Xander with an expression that indicated he’d better hop to it if he ever wanted to have fun again.

 

“I’m supposed to meet up with Buffy for dinner. Not to rush you out of the door, but—”

 

“We’ve got things to do,” Xander said. “You’ll call if you need anything?”

 

“Of course.”

 

It wasn’t precisely a lie; Spike had every intention of calling Xander if he needed a carpenter. He just wasn’t sure when that would be.

 

Spike headed to the Summers’ residence as soon as Anya and Xander were gone, the sheaf of papers tucked inside a manila envelope. He had experience in creating identities from scratch, although he’d never had to make up a packet for a teenage girl before.

 

Buffy greeted him with a kiss as soon as he walked in. “Thanks for coming.”

 

“You okay?” he asked, concerned.

 

She nodded. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

 

“I thought you liked shopping.”

 

“I like shopping for myself.” Buffy handed him his credit card. “And although Mom assures me that I was worse than Dawn, I don’t remember.”

 

Spike chuckled. “I’d believe it.”

 

“Spike!”

 

“Remember how you were when we first met?”

 

“I apologized for being a bitch, Spike.”

 

“You did, but I think you get my point.”

 

Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder. “Are we hunting tonight?”

 

“Dracula likes young women,” Spike said softly. “So, yeah. I’d say we hunt the bastard down. He likes ritzy places, and he’s good at illusion. It’s going to take some work to find him.”

 

“What business does he have with you, Spike?”

 

“We had a run-in not that long after my soul got anchored. There were words exchanged, and I pissed him off some.”

 

“How badly did you piss him off?”

 

“I killed his favorite bride,” Spike admitted. “She pissed me off.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“She killed a kid.” It wasn’t as though Spike hadn’t done the same. He’d run with the Scourge of Europe for nearly twenty years before he was cursed with his soul, and he’d killed his share of children.

 

And every single one of them weighed on his soul.

 

Buffy pulled him close, pressing her lips to his cheek. They had been together long enough now that she knew when he was feeling guilty. “We’ll find him and kill him. It’s what we do.”

 

Spike just hoped it was that easy.

 

~~~~~

 

It was the second night that Quinn had gone searching for Dracula. Sunday night had come and gone with no sign of the famous vampire, although she’d managed to kill a few fledglings.

 

Now that had been satisfying.

 

“If I were Dracula, where would I hide?” Quinn murmured.

 

“Are you looking for me?”

 

Quinn whirled, so startled that she looked into Dracula’s eyes. “You…”

 

“Me.” He glided forward. “You _were_ looking for me. How interesting. Can it be that you seek the darkness? There have been others of your kind who have.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Quinn tried to back up but found herself unable to move. “Let me go.”

 

“But you were the one looking for me.” Dracula ran a finger across her cheek, a slow smile forming on his pale face. “Yes, I think you’ll do.”

 

Inside, Quinn was screaming, even though she was frozen in place. She had never been so frightened in her life.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy stopped cold. “Spike? Are you seeing this?”

 

“Yeah, I am. I think we might need help.”

 

“I think you might be right.” Buffy sized up the castle that had risen from nowhere. “And we’re going to need more firepower, too.”

 

“I’ll tell Wes.” Spike pulled out his cell phone, while Buffy started around the perimeter. She couldn’t see any guards, which concerned her. She doubted that Dracula’s fake castle was unprotected, and she would feel more comfortable if she knew what those protections were.

 

She rejoined Spike after a few minutes, after satisfying herself that she’d obtained as much information as she could from the outside. “How long?”

 

“Ten minutes.” He rocked back on his heels, surveying the castle with a jaundiced eye. “I should have known old Drac would cook up a place like this.”

 

“Where did he get it?”

 

“Gypsy magic,” Spike spat. “The wanker is full of tricks and illusions.” He turned to face her, his blue eyes intense. “Don’t look in his eyes, pet. That’s how he pulls folks in.”

 

“Got it. Don’t look in his eyes.”

 

The sound of footsteps caused them both to turn. Wesley and Willow were walking towards them briskly, and the ex-Watcher carried a black duffel bag over his shoulder. “I brought weapons.”

 

“Thanks, Wes.” Spike started digging through the bag as soon as Wesley had set it on the ground. “Willow? You armed?”

 

“I’ve got my mojo.” Willow held up a stake. “And this.”

 

“Good enough.” Spike looked at Willow and Wesley. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Buffy. Don’t look in his eyes. He’ll get his hooks into you.”

 

“Got it,” Willow said. “No looking into Dracula’s eyes.”

 

“Are we ready?” Wesley asked.

 

“Let’s go.” Buffy headed towards the castle, wondering if the illusion would hold up once they stepped inside—and wondering what would happen once they killed Dracula.

 

Surely the illusion wouldn’t hold up once the vampire responsible was dust.


	9. Chapter 9

**“Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits/When I am sometime absent from thy heart,/Thy beauty and thy years full well befits,/For still temptation follows where thou art./Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won;/Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed;/And when a woman woos, what woman’s son/Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed?...” ~William Shakespeare, “Sonnet 41: Those Pretty Wrongs That Liberty Commits”**

 

Quinn was unable even to cringe as Dracula stroked her bare shoulder. She had been unable to refuse his order to change into the same silk shift that the rest of his brides were wearing, and now she found herself unable to do more than passively accept his cold caresses.

 

“You are fighting so hard, my lovely Slayer,” he murmured. “Why not embrace the darkness? Do you not know that a Slayer is made from darkness?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she managed. “Slayers kill things like you.”

 

He chuckled. “And where do you think you found the strength? I can show you things, so many things.”

 

Quinn wondered if she should tell him that she wasn’t a Slayer. She had no idea if it would improve her chances of getting out alive or if it would simply spur him to kill her sooner. She didn’t want to be turned, but she wanted to live.

 

Quinn didn’t want to die.

 

“You won’t,” she managed, fighting his hold with all she had. “You won’t show me anything. I’ll kill you first.”

 

He bent, his lips caressing her neck before she felt the sharp pinch of his fangs. One of his hands touched her thigh moving under the shift, and Quinn felt herself responding, hating herself for it at the same time.

 

Her head fell back, giving him better access. Quinn had thought that being bitten by a vampire would hurt, but instead it was erotic. Maybe that was just Dracula, but Quinn had no desire to run a comparison.

 

Quinn was almost disappointed when Dracula withdrew his fangs, leaving her feeling faint and abnormally weak. “We will wait to finish,” he whispered. “I want this to be good for you, for you to remember the day of your rebirth forever.”

 

“See, that’s just a nancy boy way of saying that you’re afraid of commitment.”

 

Dracula’s hold over her diminished just enough so that she managed to turn her head to see who had just entered the room.

 

Quinn had never thought she’d be grateful to see a vampire.

 

~~~~~

 

They had been forced to split up when the first hallway dead-ended, and Spike had ordered Wesley and Willow to stick together. He and Buffy had gone in the opposite direction; Spike could just make out a racing heartbeat, and he knew that’s where Dracula was likely to be.

 

Wesley and Willow could handle Dracula’s brides, but Spike knew that the other vampire’s tricks could present them with more of a challenge than they were prepared to face.

 

Spike felt a sense of urgency when he heard the heart slow, skip a beat, then resume a steady pace. “He’s got company,” Spike whispered.

 

“Got it.” Buffy’s stake was already in her hand, and she appeared as determined as he’d ever seen her. Spike got the impression that Dracula had pissed her off.

 

“Careful. He likes to disappear in a puff of smoke.”

 

“I’ll disappear his ass in a puff of dust.”

 

Spike grinned. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

 

She returned the smile, a devilish glint in her eye. “Just you wait. I’ll show you dirty talk.”

 

Spike smirked, then jogged into the great hall. He took in the scene in an instant, hearing Dracula’s promise to make the girl’s turning last forever. “See, that’s just a nancy boy way of saying that you’re afraid of commitment.”

 

The comment did what he wanted it to do; it broke Dracula’s hold over the girl so that she managed to twist free of his grasp and stumble backwards, the short, silk shift sliding up her thighs.

 

“Ah, William. It seems that you brought me another Slayer. Once I kill you, I’ll have both of them.”

 

“You know, I’m standing right here,” Buffy said, twirling her stake. “And even if you did manage to kill Spike—which you won’t—I’ll kill you before you lay your filthy hands on me.”

 

“So you say.” Dracula smiled smugly. “I have heard this before.”

 

“Not from me.” Buffy advanced on him, forcing him to watch her.

 

Spike could see the other girl shaking herself, as though to rid her mind of Dracula’s influence. He caught her eye, grabbed his spare stake, and tossed it to her, thinking that she’d be better off armed at least.

 

Although he wanted to take Dracula on himself, Spike decided that he’d rather watch Buffy kick his ass. What could he say? He liked watching her work.

 

“I will make you the same promise,” Dracula said, attempting to circle her. Buffy moved to block him. “I will show you the darkness within yourself. I will show you things you have never seen.”

 

Spike snorted as Buffy let out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’re kidding me, right? Because I know my own darkness, and I’ve seen plenty. You’re a real idiot, you know that?”

 

Dracula appeared to be momentarily stunned by Buffy’s refusal to succumb to his charms, when the girl he’d been drinking from chose that moment to strike. Spike could tell from her aim that she wasn’t a novice, but the loss of blood and Dracula’s thrall had weakened her. The vampire managed to bat her away with all the concern that another person would show a fly.

 

As the girl went flying, Buffy executed a round kick that knocked the vampire back a step, and she followed it up with a quick series of punches and kicks that kept him on the defensive. Buffy rammed the stake home, and Dracula disintegrated.

 

Or at least he seemed to disappear. Spike knew the bastard’s tricks; Dracula would reappear in a few minutes, as soon as he thought it was safe.

 

It wouldn’t be too difficult to make sure that Dracula thought he was safe to reappear; they would just need to get the girl to safety.

 

~~~~~

 

Willow let out a small shriek as the female vampire charged her. Dodging as it reached for her, she levitated the stake and rammed it into its back.

 

“Well done,” Wesley said, staking his own vampire. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m good,” Willow replied a little breathlessly. “Let’s find Buffy and Spike. From what Spike said about Dracula, they might need our help.”

 

“I agree.” They hurried through the maze of hallways, staking the two other female vampires they encountered. When they arrived at the large hall, Spike saw them immediately.

 

“Get her out of here!” Spike called.

 

Willow noticed the other woman immediately; she looked familiar, but Willow couldn’t immediately place her. Wesley stripped his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. They supported her out of the hall between the two of them, and she appeared to be struggling to stay on her feet.

 

“Easy,” Wesley said quietly, carefully lowering her to the floor. “We’ll wait until you’ve got your feet under you again.”

 

“Thanks.” The woman kept her head down, his jacket clutched tightly around her.

 

With that one word, spoken in a distinctive English accent, Willow remembered that she’d seen the girl in her sociology class. “Quinn?”

 

She looked up. “Huh?”

 

“It’s Willow, from sociology. Do you remember me?”

 

For a moment, Willow could have sworn that Quinn was upset about being recognized, but the deer-in-headlights might have been a result of the rather compromising position they had discovered her in.

 

“I remember you,” Quinn finally said.

 

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Wesley promised.

 

She nodded but didn’t reply. Willow thought about asking her how she had ended up in Dracula’s clutches, but then decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea. After all, she didn’t really want to answer any questions about why they were there.

 

Instead, she sat down on the floor next to Quinn and put an arm around her shoulders, guessing that the other woman could use some human comfort just then. When Quinn leaned into her, Willow knew that she’d made the right call.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy took her cue from Spike, who remained completely silent and still. He had warned her that Dracula had a tendency to come back, and she was willing to accept that he had seen something she hadn’t.

 

After a couple of minutes, the pile of dust that had been Dracula began to coalesce, and she glanced over at Spike. He rolled his eyes but said nothing, and they waited until Dracula solidified again.

 

When Dracula spotted them, he appeared alarmed and immediately transformed into a bat. Buffy moved quickly, seizing the creature by one wing before it could fly off and tossing it into the fire. She swore she heard it scream, even though a bat’s sonar was in a frequency that humans shouldn’t be able to hear.

 

The walls of the great hall shimmered and disappeared. Buffy realized that they were standing inside one of the abandoned churches in Sunnydale. “Well, that’s not something you see every day.”

 

“No, it’s not.” Spike put a hand on her lower back.

 

“I think we need to talk to the girl. Dracula seemed to think she was some kind of Slayer,” Buffy said.

 

“You don’t think she is?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t think so, and if she is, I think we need to question why she’s here.”

 

“Even if she’s not—” Spike paused for a moment. “There’s the question of why she would pretend to be a Slayer. Dracula wondered why I was with you instead of her. He must have met her first.”

 

Buffy nodded, her mind racing. Why would Dracula have thought the other woman was a Slayer? How would he have known? “We need to talk about this later.”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

They made their way out into the foyer, finding Willow and Quinn sitting on the floor and Wesley standing guard over them.

 

“Are you guys okay?” Buffy asked.

 

“Quinn probably should go to the hospital,” Willow responded.

 

The girl shook her head emphatically. “No, I’m okay. I just need to go home.”

 

“We can drive you, but you might need to be looked at by a doctor, ducks,” Spike said, squatting down to put himself on Quinn’s level. “You lost some blood.”

 

“I’ll be all right,” Quinn asserted. “I just—I want my own clothes. Please.”

 

Buffy cleared her throat. “We’ll get you there.” She bent to help Quinn up. “I’m Buffy Summers, by the way.”

 

“Quinn O’Mara,” she replied. “I have a sociology class with Willow.”

 

“Well, then, you two already know each other.” Buffy gave Willow a meaningful look, hoping she got the message—no talking shop, and no giving any indication that they suspected Quinn of something shady. “I think they’re on Wesley’s bike, so Spike and I can give you a ride home in his car.”

 

“Thanks.” Quinn seemed to be fairly steady on her feet, so Buffy released her slowly after first making certain that she was okay to walk.

 

“I’ll get the car,” Spike said. “You ladies wait here.”

 

Buffy sat next to Quinn on the sidewalk outside, listening to the familiar sounds of the night. She had no idea of what to say. Although she wanted to be comforting, Buffy didn’t know what to tell her, and she didn’t want to get too friendly with someone whose motives were in question.

 

“Thanks. For showing up in time.”

 

Buffy sensed that the words had been hard for Quinn to say. “That’s kinda my job.”

 

“You’re a vampire Slayer?”

 

“How do you know about Slayers?”

 

There was a long pause, and Quinn finally said, “Something I’ve picked up over the years. I’m a demon hunter.”

 

“A demon hunter, huh? That’s a tough business to get into.”

 

“It’s a family business. I’ve been training since I was a child.”

 

“You know, same here.” The words had the ring of truth to them, but Buffy knew that sometimes the best way to tell a believable lie was to encase it in the truth. She’d done that often enough with her mom.

 

Spike drove up in the car a few minutes later, getting out to open the door for Quinn. “Where are we headed?” he asked once they were seated.

 

“A complex near campus.” Quinn gave him directions; it didn’t take long to get there. “Thanks again.”

 

“Do you want some help inside?” Buffy asked.

 

She shook her head. “No, I’m good. Maybe I’ll see you around on campus.”

 

“I’m sure you will.” When the door closed behind Quinn, Buffy turned to Spike. “She claims she’s a demon hunter.”

 

“I’m certain she is,” Spike replied. “The question is who’s paying her.”

 

~~~~~

 

“So, what do you want for your birthday?”

 

Tara glanced up from her history textbook. “I don’t really want anything.”

 

“Come on, Tara.” Willow smiled. “It’s not every day you hit the two decade mark. We could have a party at the Bronze. That would be fun.”

 

Tara realized that she wasn’t going to get out of celebrating her birthday, even though she hadn’t had a party since her mother died. “It really doesn’t matter, Will.” Wanting to change the subject, she asked, “How’s the hacking job coming?”

 

“I’m getting there. Bank systems are harder to hack into for obvious reasons, but I’ll get it.” Willow went back to staring at the computer screen. “So, did you notice anything about Quinn when she asked us for the class notes?”

 

“Not really.” Tara though about her first impression, trying to recall if anything had struck her as being strange about the other woman. “I thought she seemed to be at war with herself.”

 

Willow paused. “Huh. Maybe if she is a spy for the Council, she doesn’t want to be.”

 

“Is that what Spike and Buffy think?”

 

“They’re not sure what to think, which is why I’m hacking into her bank records to find out where her money comes from.” Willow grimaced. “And that’s why I’m going to feel pretty terrible if she’s just a normal college girl.”

 

“She’s hardly normal,” Tara pointed out. “She admitted that she was a demon fighter. Last I heard, there weren’t many of those in college.”

 

“And unless you’re a Slayer with a destiny, I would think that a college campus would be exactly where you wouldn’t normally be, unless you’re undercover.” Willow sighed. “She could be sniffing out a vampire gang, or some other demon activity.”

 

“Anything is possible.” Tara bent her head back over her textbook, but she was having a hard time concentrating on the dates and names. “Willow?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can I talk to you about something?”

 

“Sure. What about?”

 

“It’s about something I saw when I did the _tirer la couture_.”

 

“Is this what you wanted to talk to me and Wes about?”

 

She nodded, hesitating. There had been so little time in the last few days, between trying to figure out what to do about Dawn and getting Dracula sorted. Tara had wanted to wait until the right time, but it was becoming obvious that there was no right time. If she waited, it would be too late.

 

“My dad told me that I have demon blood in me,” Tara said slowly. “I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him until I did the spell. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and—I knew he was right.”

 

Willow leaned back from her computer, giving Tara her full attention. “Okay. Is there something wrong with that?”

 

“I thought so. My dad seemed to think so.” Tara sighed. “He said the demon part of me wouldn’t come out until I was twenty, and now…”

 

“And now you’re turning twenty, and you’re not sure whether you’re going to grow a tail or horns or something,” Willow filled in.

 

“Pretty much.” Tara wasn’t sure how to phrase her request. “There’s a chance that I’ll go bad, you know. Dad seemed to think that’s what would happen, and—”

 

Willow snorted, interrupting her. “Okay, first off, I don’t know of anybody _less_ likely to go bad, and secondly—well, that’s pretty much it right there. I don’t think you need to worry about that, Tara. Spike’s a vampire, Anya’s an ex-demon—you’ve seen the people we hang out with.”

 

“I know. That’s one of the reasons I’m okay with this, more okay than I was. I just—I wanted you to know.”

 

Willow smiled. “I’ll tell you what. If you suddenly go evil, we’ll definitely stop you from hurting yourself or anybody else until we can make you un-evil.”

 

Tara knew that she likely didn’t have anything to worry about, but Willow’s promise was reassuring. “Thanks.”

 

“Anytime.” Willow went back to her computer. “Hey! I’m in.”

 

“Anything interesting?”

 

“Maybe. I’m going to have to trace the payments. It looks like she’s making a regular income, and I’ve got monthly deposits from the same source. Let’s see what that source is.”

 

They both worked in silence for the next half hour as Willow rapidly clicked through screens and read entries. “Oh, shit.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I think we need to call Spike and Buffy.” Willow looked up. “It looks like they were right to suspect that something was going on.”


	10. Chapter 10

**“…Whene’er the fate of those I hold most dear/Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow,/O bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer;/Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow:/Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed,/And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head!/Should e’er unhappy love my bosom pain,/From cruel parents, or relentless fair;/O let me think it is not quite in vain/To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air!...” ~John Keats, “To Hope”**

 

Quinn had spent nearly an hour in her shower, scrubbing every inch of skin, trying to forget what Dracula’s hands had felt like. She’d shed some tears as well; the violation of her mind had been much worse than the violation of her body.

 

She had been a prisoner inside her own skin, unable to disobey Dracula’s orders. Quinn had never been so frightened in her life, and she had been rescued by the very people she had been sent to spy on.

 

It was fear that had kept her inside her apartment for the last two days—not fear of Dracula, because he was dead. It was fear of running into the Sunnydale Slayer or one of her friends, and learning something that she would then have to report.

 

“What the bloody hell am I supposed to think?” she muttered, slamming her hand against the kitchen counter. Quinn grabbed a beer from the pantry and promptly lost her grip on the bottle.

 

“Shit, shit, shit.” She stared at the mess, feeling the tears threaten once again, and she jumped when the phone rang.

 

Taking a deep breath to get herself under control, Quinn grabbed the receiver. “O’Mara.”

 

“Quinn. What’s wrong?”

 

Her mother’s voice got the tears flowing again, and she bit her lip to prevent a sob from escaping. How was it that her mother knew that something was wrong from 1500 miles away?

 

“Mom, I’m fine.”

 

“Don’t lie to me,” Claire O’Mara ordered. “Is this assignment too much for you? If you wanted to come out here—”

 

“No, no, I’m okay. It’s not the job.” The job was part of it, of course, but her parents couldn’t know of her doubts. If she disobeyed Travers’ orders, and they knew of it, they could be removed from active-Watcher status for not reporting that fact. And if they were removed, her fourteen-year-old sister would be left with a stranger.

 

“Quinn. Tell us what happened.” Now her father’s voice came on the line, and Quinn bit back a laugh that was half a sob. “You’ll have your mother on a flight to California tonight if you don’t.”

 

Since her father had spoken nothing but the truth, Quinn said, “I had a run-in with a vampire that shook me up some, but I’m fine.”

 

“Did you get bitten?” Claire asked.

 

“Not badly.”

 

“Did you meet the other Slayer?” Oscar O’Mara asked.

 

“And William the Bloody,” Quinn acknowledged.

 

There was a long pause, and Oscar said quietly, “Quinn, you know we trust you. You’ll do the right thing.”

 

Quinn swallowed. “What if I don’t know what the right thing is?”

 

“Then we trust you to figure it out,” Claire replied. “You know as well as we do that we wouldn’t have this job if your sister hadn’t been the one Chosen. If something happens, we’ll work it out.”

 

Quinn didn’t doubt that her parents would manage to do exactly that. She just wished she knew what her next step ought to be.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles regarded Dawn helplessly. Joyce had to work late at the gallery, and she had asked him to stay with the girl. He’d had a hard enough time with Buffy when she was Dawn’s age, but she had been his Slayer. Giles had nothing in common with this girl.

 

“How was your first day at school?” he finally asked, thinking that was probably a safe question.

 

Dawn shrugged. “It was okay. Nobody was mean.”

 

“Do you have any homework?”

 

“No.”

 

Giles didn’t know that he believed her, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to press her for information. “Are you hungry?”

 

“No.”

 

“Is there something you would like to do?”

 

“Why can’t I stay with Spike?” Dawn’s blue eyes challenged him. “Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to be protecting me?”

 

Giles had to bite back his first response, which was, “Good question.” He would have liked nothing better than to send the girl to Spike’s house and have a chance to catch up on his reading.

 

“Perhaps you should call him,” Giles suggested. “If he doesn’t mind your company, I’ll drive you over there.”

 

“I can walk. It’s not that far.”

 

Giles knew that she was trying to assert her independence, and that it was a normal part of being a teen. At least that’s what Joyce had told him. He didn’t remember Buffy being like this, but then he’d been her Watcher and focused on her training. As the Slayer, Buffy had had a purpose that she actively pursued.

 

Dawn’s purpose was in what she was, with no required action on her part.

 

“I’ll call Spike.” She seemed happy enough with that option, and Giles decided that there was no point in feeling badly about Dawn not wanting to spend time with him.

 

“Can I spend the night over there?” Dawn called.

 

Giles remembered vaguely that spending the night somewhere was probably not appropriate for a school night, but since it was Spike and Buffy, he thought it might be all right. They would make certain that she got to school on time, and he and Joyce would have an evening alone.

 

“I suppose that would be fine.”

 

“Spike said they would pick me up.” Dawn poked her head back into the living room. “I’m going to pack my bag.”

 

“He’ll take you to school in the morning?”

 

“He said that he has to drop Buffy off at college, so it won’t be a big deal.” Giles heard the thunder of her feet as she ran up the stairs, and for a moment he wished he had that sort of energy still.

 

He changed his mind immediately, remembering what life had been like for him at fourteen. There was no way he wanted to relive that period.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn still felt unsettled and uncertain. It was weird to be at her mom’s house with just Giles. She liked him fine, but she didn’t think that he liked her.

 

And maybe she _didn’t_ really like him. No one had exactly come out and told her what had happened—why no one remembered her, why her own memory was spotty, or why she had to pretend that she wasn’t actually Joyce’s daughter.

 

All they had said was that she was special, and that when they knew more, they would tell her, and then Buffy had promised that she would always be taken care of, but that she needed to stay with Joyce and Giles because it was more practical.

 

Dawn hadn’t argued because it felt right to stay with her mom and Giles. That was where she was supposed to be.

 

But it was still more fun with Spike and Buffy than it was with Giles.

 

She climbed into the backseat of Spike’s Mustang, pleased at the idea that he would be dropping her off at school the next morning. Arriving in such a cool car would definitely raise her status.

 

Right now, no one really knew what to think of her. Dawn had stuck to the story that Buffy and Spike had made up, but it was beyond weird. She was supposedly living with her dad’s ex-wife. Who did that?

 

“How was school, Dawnie?” Buffy asked, twisting around to face her.

 

Dawn shrugged. “It was okay.”

 

“Everyone treat you alright?” Spike asked. “If someone messed with you, you just say the word.”

 

She couldn’t hide the grin that formed. “No, nobody messed with me.”

 

“Let us know if things get too weird.” Buffy’s expression was sympathetic, and Dawn figured that if anybody knew “weird,” it was probably her sister. “Maybe we can help.”

 

“I’ll be okay.” Still, it made her feel better knowing that someone was there for her if things got bad. “Where are we going?”

 

“The Bronze,” Spike said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

 

Dawn tried to play it cool. “No, I don’t mind at all.” Joyce never would have allowed her to go by herself, but if any of the kids from school saw her there, in the company of her older sister and very cool older boyfriend, Dawn would definitely gain points.

 

She could use all the help she could get.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley wasn’t certain that the Bronze was the best place to discuss Council spies, particularly with Dawn there, but they did need to talk about how they were going deal with Quinn.

 

“Are you sure?” Spike kept his voice down, trying to prevent Dawn from overhearing. Tara was talking to Dawn about her day at school, keeping the girl distracted from the hastily whispered conversation.

 

“Positive,” Willow whispered back. “The Council is definitely paying Quinn.”

 

“But why?” Buffy asked. “She’s not a Slayer; we know that much.”

 

“Who’s not a Slayer?”

 

As Wesley had suspected would happen sooner or later, Dawn had overheard the conversation. “A girl we rescued the other night.” Wesley could tell from Buffy’s expression that she was debating how much information to give the teen. “She said she was a demon fighter.”

 

“So, does that mean I could be a demon fighter?” Dawn asked.

 

“Over my dead body.” Buffy gave her a sharp look. “Spike and I are supposed to keep you safe.”

 

Dawn’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Teaching me to fight demons _would_ be keeping me safe.”

 

“She has a point,” Tara said quickly, stepping in to defuse the situation. “Knowing self-defense is important in this town.”

 

“True enough,” Spike said easily. “We’ll talk about it.”

 

He smiled at Dawn, and Wesley recognized that look—it was the one that he used on particularly difficult clients to charm them into doing exactly what he wanted them to do.

 

“Okay.”

 

Apparently the illusion of a promise was all Dawn had needed, because she went back to scanning the crowd for other students her age. “Can I get another soda?”

 

“I’d like another drink, too,” Willow said. “I can get it. Do you want to come along, Dawn?”

 

Dawn followed the girl with Tara in tow, and Wesley heaved a sigh of relief. “We need to set up a meeting,” he said. “Without Dawn. I’ve been able to clarify the prophecy slightly—as much as a prophecy can be clarified, of course.”

 

“We’re helping Xander move in tomorrow afternoon,” Buffy said. “We can do it then.”

 

“We are?” Wesley asked. “I hadn’t heard about this.”

 

“You’re hearing about it now.” Spike smirked. “We weren’t sure this would be something up your alley, but now that we need to have a meeting, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

 

“And get out of some of the heavy lifting,” Wesley observed. “What time?”

 

“Four,” Buffy replied. “Xander and Anya are already, um…” She glanced at Spike.  
  
“I think we know where Xander and Anya are,” Wesley said dryly. “So, tomorrow then?”

 

Spike nodded. “Dawn can stay with Rupert or Joyce. The bookstore isn’t a bad place for her to get her homework done.”

 

“I’m sure that Giles will love that,” Wesley said.

 

Buffy grinned. “It’ll be good practice for him.”

 

~~~~~

 

Xander didn’t have much in the way of furniture, nor did Anya, but between the two of them, they had managed to purchase what they would need. The bed and couch had been delivered the day before, and now they were in the process of moving everything else in.

 

“Where do you want this?” Spike asked, holding a box full of his _Babylon 5_ commemorative plates.

 

“Uh, the bedroom for right now, I guess.”

 

The parade of friends with boxes ensured that they would be moved in no time. “Hey, Anya? Do you know where the kitchen stuff is?”

 

“It’s in the kitchen,” she replied. “You didn’t have much.”

 

“Mom gave me a few things,” Xander replied. “It’s not like I had a kitchen before.”

 

Although his mom had been nice enough to give him a few things that would help get them settled in the new place, he’d gotten the vibe that she was just that happy to see him go.

 

“Okay, everything is inside,” Wesley announced, coming through the door with a last box. “Where would you like this one?”

 

Xander recognized the box of comics. “The closet, thanks.”

 

It took less than fifteen minutes for all of the boxes to be placed in the rooms they all belonged in. Xander grabbed the map he’d been put in charge of the previous year, and they all found seats around his new living room.

 

Looking around, he couldn’t quite believe that this was really happening—that he had his own place, and that his friends were there. It felt good.

 

“I grabbed the map like you asked.” Xander handed it to Willow.

 

She smiled. “Great. We’ll see what we can do to get Dawn on here.” Willow turned to Buffy. “I’ll need something of hers.”

 

Buffy nodded. “We can go by Mom’s place tonight and grab something.”

 

“How is that working out?” Xander asked. “Is she okay with your mom?”

 

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know. She seems to be doing okay, but this whole situation is weird. Have you guys made any progress finding out who could be behind creating her?”

 

Tara shook her head. “There’s nothing, Buffy. We know that it’s probably not one person, because the spell would be too complex, and would require more power than one person would have.”

 

“That’s something, anyway,” Spike inserted. “Knowing that it’s more than one gives us a place to start.”

 

“A place to start, yes, but it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Wesley asserted. “We need more information.”

 

“Which we don’t have yet,” Buffy said. “Okay, so what do we know about Quinn?”

 

“She’s in at least one of our classes,” Willow began. “She approached Tara and me a week or two ago wanting the notes for the class. She said that she was a late transfer.”

 

Tara cleared her throat. “At the time, I sensed that something was off. I thought maybe she was conflicted about something, but I don’t know.”

 

Wesley frowned. “What was her last name again?”

 

“O’Mara,” Willow replied. “Do you know her?”

 

“No, but I think I know why she would be working for the Council. The O’Maras have been Watchers for generations. Giles might know her parents, as they would be his age.” Wesley ran a hand through his spiky hair. “I seem to recall that they had two daughters, but both were quite a bit younger than me.”

 

Buffy nodded. “I think we’ll go ahead and work with the theory that she’s been sent by the Council to spy on us, then.”

 

“Might not be a bad idea to confront her,” Spike stated.

 

Xander cleared his throat. “What if that scares her off? It’s probably better to know who’s spying on us.”

 

“Let’s play it by ear.” Buffy’s tone was that of Slayer-General; she had made the decision as to how they were going to deal with Quinn, and until new information came up, she wasn’t going to change her mind. “There’s nothing we can do right now, and Xander made a good point. I’d rather know who’s spying on me and be able to control the information she has.”

 

“Good.” Spike looked around the room. “Anybody hungry?”

 

Xander added his vote for pizza to the rest, feeling Anya’s warm weight resting against his side. She’d be antsy to get everybody to leave soon, although they had already taken the bed for a test run.

 

Still, Xander could wait, at least for the moment. Being here, among friends, and feeling as though he was part of things was enough.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles kept an eye on Dawn, wondering how he’d been stuck with watching her again, although he knew it was for a good reason. The bookstore was safe enough, and it was a better place for her to get homework done than the gallery would be.

 

He supposed he’d better get used to it. Unless new information revealed that Dawn’s metamorphosis was only temporary, she would be with them for a while.

 

The bell above the door rang, and he glanced up to see a middle-aged man enter, followed closely by another, younger man. “Hello. Can I help you find something?”

 

“We’re looking for Tara Maclay,” the older man said. “Some of the folks on campus said we might be able to find her here.”

 

Giles trusted his instincts; he’d spent years anticipating danger, and something did not feel right about this situation. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “There’s no one here by that name.”

 

Dawn rose from the small table in the center of the floor and wandered over to the register; Giles wondered if she would say anything to give Tara away, but she remained silent, regarding the two men with a suspicious stare.

 

“Do you know her?” the older man pressed. “Does she come here?”

 

Giles considered lying, but then discarded the idea. It was entirely possible that the men meant Tara no harm, and were in fact friends or family members. Still, there was something slightly menacing about their attitudes, and he put on his most pleasant expression, used for dealing with unruly customers.

 

“There are a lot of college students who come through the store,” he replied. “But yes, I do know Tara.”

 

“Do you know where I can find her?”

 

“I’d be happy to pass a message along to her,” Giles replied. He knew exactly where she could be found, but he wasn’t about to divulge her whereabouts until he knew this person’s agenda.

 

The man’s hard eyes searched his face, as though looking for any hint of falsehood or an ulterior motive. “We’ll find her on campus. We know where she lives.”

 

As the two men left the shop, Dawn asked the question that was running through his own mind. “Was that a threat?”

 

“I don’t know, Dawn.” Giles picked up the phone. “But I believe that we should warn Tara and the others that there were some unfriendly sorts asking after her.”

 

Until they knew more, that was all they could do.


	11. Chapter 11

**“Ah, could I lay me down in this long grass/And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind/Blow over me—I am so tired, so tired/Of passing pleasant places! All my life,/ Following Care along the dusty road,/Have I looked back at loveliness and sighed;/Yet at my hand an unrelenting hand/Tugged ever, and I passed. All my life long/Over my shoulder have I looked at peace;/And now I fain would lie in this long grass/And close my eyes./Yet onward!...” ~Edna St. Vincent Millay, “Journey”**

 

Tara had accepted the fact that people were looking for her with a certain sense of inevitability. Her twentieth birthday was in just a couple of days, and that was the date that her father had claimed she would change, that her demon blood would emerge.

 

She hadn’t expected her father to show up in Sunnydale, but once she knew that he had, she wasn’t surprised by it.

 

“Here you are.” Wesley opened the door for Willow and waited for Tara to emerge from the backseat. “I’ll walk you both to your room.”

 

“You don’t have to do that, Wesley,” Tara said. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

 

“I’m not,” he replied. “So if you’ll humor me, I’ll walk you both to your door.”

 

Tara smiled, surrendering to the inevitable. “Just for you.”

 

“How could I resist walking between two lovely ladies?”

 

“Charmer,” Willow accused.

 

“Guilty as charged.” Wesley held an arm out to both of them.

 

Tara couldn’t help the little smile that formed as they strolled up to the dorm. She might not swing that way, but Wesley was a handsome man, and she couldn’t help but notice the looks that other students were sending their way. Some looked admiring, others jealous, and she reveled a bit in the attention.

 

She was used to being in the background, so it was strange and yet satisfying to be in the spotlight.

 

“Tara!”

 

She froze when she heard the voice; it immediately took her back to her childhood. Wesley squeezed her arm in support, as though sensing the tension that shot through her. She pulled free and turned to face the man who had made her childhood difficult at best.

 

“Dad.”

 

“What are you doing with these people?”

 

She could see the thoughts going through his head. He was thinking the worst—or what he thought was the worst. To be quite honest, Tara could think of a lot of things that would be worse than having a threesome with Willow and Wesley.

 

“These are my friends,” she said simply. “How did you find me, Dad?”

 

“I don’t think we should talk about this now. I’d like to take you out to dinner for your birthday.”

 

Tara thought about refusing, but she knew that was the coward’s way out. If she wanted to lay these demons to rest, it would be best to meet them head-on. “Okay.”

 

“Tara,” Willow whispered urgently.

 

Tara knew that the other woman was worried about her, and she nodded reassuringly. “It’s okay. What time do you want to meet, Dad?”

 

“Would six work?”

 

“That’s fine. I’ll meet you at the bookstore. There are restaurants nearby.”

 

Tara wasn’t about to let her family near her life. She would finish this on her own terms.

 

Her father seemed taken aback by her assertive tone, but he nodded in acquiescence and left. From past experience, she knew that he disliked “making a scene” in front of strangers, although not out of courtesy to her. He had always been worried about how her actions—her very existence—would reflect on him.

 

“You don’t have to do this, Tara,” Wesley said softly once her father was out of earshot.

 

Tara looked up at him. “Tell me, did you feel better after seeing your father again?”

 

He nodded in understanding. “No, but I’m glad I did it.”

 

She looked over at Willow, who sighed. “Do you want one of us to go with you?”

 

Tara shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Did you tell Wesley—”

 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”

 

“It’s okay. If you want to come in, Wesley, I’ll explain.”

 

Tara knew that there would be a lot of explanations over the next few days, but she was ready to face the reality of who and what she was.

 

~~~~~

 

“I’m having a party on Friday. Do you want to come?”

 

Dawn was a little surprised to be asked, but she said yes without thinking. “Sure. What time?”

 

“It starts at seven.” Monica smiled. “There’ll be lots of cute boys there. They’re all asking about you.”

 

Dawn started to see why she’d been invited. “They are?”

 

“Sure. You’re the new girl. Everyone is curious.” Monica looked her up and down. “Word of warning—be sure you’re dressed right.”

 

“Right?”

 

“Yeah. Dress to impress, you know?” Monica’s smile bordered on insincere now. “I’ll see you there.”

 

Dawn realized that she was being used as bait for some of the boys in school who might not have otherwise come to the party, but who would if they knew the new girl was going to be there. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Dawn collected her books and other homework, wondering how she was going to convince Joyce to let her go to the party, and what she was going to wear.

 

Spike was waiting for her when she walked outside, and Dawn climbed into the passenger seat silently. He had pulled away from the curb before asking, “What’s wrong, Nibblet?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“You can’t fool a vampire, pet. What’s up?”

 

Dawn wasn’t sure she should tell him. If Spike knew that she had been invited to a party, there was a chance that he wouldn’t allow her to go—or that he would convince Joyce not to let her go.

 

“I was invited to a party.”

 

“There something wrong with that?”

 

“I only got invited because I’m the new girl.”

 

“Sometimes being the new kid in town can work for you.”

 

“Monica said that I’m supposed to dress right.”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“She said I needed to dress to impress.”

 

Dawn had a perverse sort of pleasure in the incredulous look that Spike gave her as he pulled up outside of the Summers’ residence. “What’s wrong with how you’re dressed now?”

 

“Apparently it’s not impressive enough.”

 

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Will there be boys at this party?”

 

Dawn shrugged. “It’s a party, Spike. There are usually boys.”

 

He exited the car abruptly, leaving Dawn to grab her backpack and scramble after him. “Spike!”

 

“Inside, Dawn.”

 

She frowned, not understanding why he’d be upset with her when she hadn’t even told him that she was planning on going to the party yet. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” she protested.

 

“No, you didn’t. That’s not the point.”

 

“What is the point?”

 

“The point is that you’re in danger from forces unknown, and I don’t want to have to worry about you being in danger from teenage boys.”

 

Dawn bristled. “I can take care of myself.”

 

Spike turned to face her, his blue eyes blazing. “No, you can’t. That’s what you have me for.”

 

She stared at him, realizing that they were at an impasse.

 

“Do you want to go?” he finally asked reluctantly.

 

She looked away. “I don’t know. I want to fit in. I just—I want to be normal.”

 

Spike sighed. “All right, but you’re not going alone.”

 

Dawn’s eyes widened. “What? What are you talking about?”

 

“You’re not going by yourself. Someone is going to be with you, or at least nearby. That means you tell us where and when it is so we can stake it out.”

 

Dawn stared at him skeptically. “What? I’ve got bodyguards now?”

 

“You do if you want to go to this thing.”

 

She knew an ultimatum when she heard one, and Dawn considered her options, realizing that she didn’t have much of a choice. “Fine.”

 

“Right, then.” He lifted an eyebrow. “As for something to wear, talk to Buffy. She might be able to help”

 

Dawn couldn’t argue. Her supposed sister always looked good. With any luck, she would, too—at least she’d look good enough to fit in. That was all she really wanted.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara sat next to Willow at the Espresso Pump. There were still a few hours until she had to meet her family, and the bookstore was just around the corner. The coffee shop was a good place to kill some time while pretending to study. “Are you sure you’re okay to go by yourself tonight?”

 

Tara nodded, looking completely at peace. “I’ll be fine. They aren’t going to do anything to me.”

 

Willow didn’t have any reason to doubt the other woman’s word on that, but she still found the idea of Tara going alone to be somewhat alarming. Families had a tendency to push buttons no one else knew existed.

 

“You’ll call if you need anything?”

 

Tara held up her cell phone. “I promise. I’ll be fine, Will.”

 

Willow watched as a blonde woman entered the coffee shop. “Tara?”

 

“Cousin Beth.” For the first time, Tara looked uncertain. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to talk to you before dinner.” Beth’s suspicious gaze turned to Willow. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

 

“Willow is my friend.” Tara set her jaw, clearly summoning up her courage. “I don’t have any secrets from her.”

 

“So, she knows you’re a demon?” Beth kept her voice low so that they wouldn’t be overheard, which was probably a good idea even in a town like Sunnydale. Then again, most of the citizens would likely take Beth’s question as metaphorical.

 

No one actually believed in demons and vampires in Sunnydale; it was always gangs of kids on PCP.

 

“She knows.” Tara’s voice was steady. “It doesn’t matter to them, not the way it always mattered to you.”

 

“We wanted to protect you.”

 

“From whom?” Tara challenged.

 

“From yourself.” Beth’s face twisted into a disapproving scowl. “Your father and Donnie don’t have anyone to do for them. Your place is at home.”

 

“My place is here.” Tara rose from the table, facing Beth with enviable poise. “There’s no one here who cares what I am, or what I can do.”

 

“You’re a freak.”

 

“So am I.” Willow decided that it was time to step in. Blocking the view of the other patrons in the coffee shop, she held out her hand. The small flame that danced in the middle of her palm looked impressive but was an easy illusion to hold. “Tara’s right at home here.”

 

Beth looked like she was going to be sick. “You—you’re all a bunch of filthy demons.”

 

Willow snickered. “No, but we are witches, and proud of it.”

 

The woman flounced out of the coffee shop, and Willow turned to Tara. “You had to put up with _that_ growing up?”

 

Tara shrugged. “She was always a pain in the ass.”

 

It was so rare for Tara to swear, even mildly, that Willow had to laugh. “Let me guess. She wasn’t your favorite cousin.”

 

“She was always tattling on me.” Tara sighed. “It gave her power.”

 

“Men ruled the roost?”

 

“They liked to think so.”

 

Tara fell silent, and Willow thought that was all she was going to say. It was, in fact, the most she had ever said about her past and her family.

 

“When my mom was alive, it was easier,” Tara continued softly. “No matter what my dad or anyone else would say, Mom would tell me that I was special. She would say that I was meant for something bigger, and that I should get out as soon as possible.”

 

Willow frowned. “Wait. If you…” She trailed off, realizing that the question was probably insensitive.

 

“She never told me, but I don’t think he’s my biological father,” Tara said, answering her unfinished question. “I don’t know who would be, or how she would have met a demon.” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I don’t know if they felt anything for each other, or if they were strangers.”

 

Willow considered her comment. “Would you want to find out?”

 

“I don’t know,” Tara admitted. “I don’t know that it would do any good.”

 

“Maybe not, but it might help answer some questions.”

 

Tara stared down at the surface of the table. “I guess.”

 

“Let me know,” Willow said. “There might be a way to find out.”

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

The way she said it, however, Willow suspected that Tara would ultimately decide against finding out, and maybe that made sense. If their positions were reversed, she didn’t know how much information she’d be able to deal with.

 

~~~~~

 

Brother Luka knew that he was in trouble when he heard the footsteps behind him. He was being followed by the Beast, and nothing he’d tried had thrown her off his scent.  Speeding his steps, he wondered how he was going to find the Slayer in this town. Although he’d assisted with the spell, he hadn’t been in charge of the details.

 

The footsteps pursued him, and Luka ran, hoping that she would get tired of the pursuit.

 

He was stopped abruptly, running into a blond man who held a stake. For a moment, Luka’s fear nearly choked him, then he realized that the man matched the description he’d heard of the Guardian.

 

“It’s you! You must be careful. The Beast is coming.”

 

“The who?”

 

“The Beast. She is coming.”

 

The Guardian grabbed him by the front of his robe. “You calling my girlfriend a beast?”

 

Luka glanced over his shoulder to see the Slayer approaching. “The Slayer.”

 

“You know me and you ran. If you didn’t have a pulse, I’d think you were a vampire.” The girl approached them slowly. “What do you want?”

 

“I know about your sister,” Luka replied. “I can give you information. Information that you need.”

 

“You know about Dawn?” Spike turned quickly, slamming him up against the alley wall. “Are you responsible for her?”

 

“Please, she is coming. You must—”

 

“There you are.” The Beast entered the alley, a smirk on her face. “Hey, you! Unhand my holy man.”

 

“Please,” Luka murmured, fearful that they would give him up to the Beast. “Please.”

 

“Get him out of here, Spike,” the Slayer ordered. “We need answers.”

 

“Get away as quick as you can, luv.”

 

Before Luka quite knew what was happening, Spike was hustling him away through the alley, even as the Slayer flew at the Beast like an avenging angel.  There was a part of him that wanted to inform the Guardian that the Beast would kill his Slayer, but he also wanted to survive, and he knew his duty.

 

And the Guardian was the one who was important.


	12. Chapter 12

**“Turning and turning in the widening gyre/The falcon cannot hear the falconer;/Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;/Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,/The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere/The ceremony of innocence is drowned;/The best lack all conviction, while the worst/Are full of passionate intensity…now I know/That twenty centuries of stony sleep/Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,/And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,/Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?” ~William Butler Yeats, “The Second Coming”**

 

Wesley hadn’t liked the idea of leaving Tara to face her family on her own. He knew that she was capable of handling the confrontation; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he knew exactly how upsetting facing relatives could be.

 

He wasn’t willing to let someone he cared about go through that alone.

 

Sitting in a corner of the restaurant, he watched as Tara pushed food around on her plate. Her father was saying something, and she was staring at the table, not meeting his eyes. Wesley wished he could get closer without giving the game away, but that would be impossible.

 

“I didn’t realize that spying was your new occupation.” Willow sat down across from him. “I thought that Tara made it clear that she wanted to do this on her own.”

 

“She did, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t have backup.” Wesley took a bite of his sandwich. “And I was hungry.”

 

“Which is why you didn’t invite me to eat with you.” Willow sounded amused, rather than upset. She smiled up at the waitress who had walked over to their table. “Could I get a Pepsi, please?”

 

“Willow—”

 

“She knows you’re here, you know.”

 

Wesley glanced over at Tara’s table inadvertently. This time, she met his gaze, but her eyes slid right past him, giving no indication that she knew he was there.

 

“Is she going to be alright?” Wesley asked.

 

Willow nodded. “I think so. She has to do this, Wes. You know how it is.”

 

He didn’t reply, but he knew. Wesley knew all too well.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike paced the length of his living room, ignoring the monk who sat on his couch, sipping a glass of water. He wanted to go out and find Buffy, had almost left to do just that twice, but each time Brother Luka had convinced him to wait.

 

“You’ll be safe enough here,” Spike finally said. “I need to find Buffy.”

 

“Please, you must not. The Beast will try to destroy you.”

 

“‘Try’ being the operative word in that statement.” Spike headed for the front door, not caring what arguments might be brought up next. He wanted nothing more than to find Buffy and make sure she was safe.

 

Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, the door swung open and Buffy stumbled inside. Spike caught her before she hit the floor. “Luv?”

 

“I’m okay,” she managed to gasp out. “But I want to know what that bitch is.”

 

Spike swept her up in his arms, ignoring her protests and orders to put her down. “Move.”

 

Brother Luka, possible sensing the danger of disobedience, moved from his spot on the couch to the recliner.

 

“Spike, really, I’m fine. I’m just a little bruised. It’s no big deal.”

 

“It looks like a big deal, so humor me.” He tipped up her chin, noting the gash on one cheek and the bruise on the same side of her jaw. “Honestly now, how badly were you hurt?”

 

“Just a little bruised,” she promised. “But I really want to know who that was.”

 

They both turned to look at Brother Luka, who appeared to be more than a little nervous.  “It was the Beast, our enemy.”

 

“‘ _Our_ ’ enemy?” Buffy asked. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re the one she was chasing.”

 

“She wants the Key, to tear down the walls between the worlds and to go home.”

 

“Shit.” Buffy’s assessment of the situation perfectly matched Spike’s. He could hear the single word clearly from the kitchen, where he’d gone to get an icepack for her bruises. “She’s after Dawn.”

 

“She is.”

 

“And what exactly is Dawn?” Spike asked, handing Buffy the icepack.

 

“Human,” Luka said with assurance. “She is now completely human.”

 

“And what was the plan?” Buffy asked. “Slip her into our lives?”

 

“Your memories—they were to include a sister. No one was to know that she was the Key. You would protect her.” Luka looked from Buffy to Spike earnestly. “You would protect a human girl.”

 

“We’d protect an artifact when it means preventing the apocalypse.” Spike sat down next to Buffy. “What happened? Dawn doesn’t remember anything more than pieces, and she’s a total stranger to us.”

 

“The Beast interrupted our spell. It was not complete. We had created the girl, but not the place for her to go.”

 

“Can you finish it?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike stared at her. “You want him to mess with our memories?”

 

“What about Dawn?” Buffy moved the icepack from her jaw. “She’s completely messed up, or she’s likely to be. It would be a lot easier if she—and we—had those memories.”

 

“True enough.” Spike turned towards the monk. “Can you do it?”

 

Luka shook his head. “I do not know. I wasn’t responsible for the spell; I was only support.”

 

“But do you know where you could find the information?”

 

“I managed to salvage books—not many. I do not know which ones we would need, but—”

 

“Good enough,” Buffy said. “We’ll call the others and get the research started. If we can help Dawn out this way, it’ll be worth it.”

 

Spike still wasn’t sure how he felt about letting someone alter his memories, but he had to admit that Buffy had a point. It would make things easier for Dawn if it could be done, and it would cause their makeshift story to be unnecessary.

 

But he still didn’t like the idea of anyone poking around his memories.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of meeting her father for dinner, not after her confrontation with Beth. She didn’t think it could possibly end well, even though she knew that she was capable of defending herself.

 

To say that dinner was tense was an understatement, and she had been absurdly grateful to see Wesley wander in with an innocent expression on his face. She’d wanted to be angry; she had told him that she would be fine on her own.

 

But it was still really good to see him.

 

Her father waited until they were leaving the restaurant before coming to the point. “You will be coming home with us, young lady. You belong with your family.”

 

“You’re not my family.” Her voice was stronger than she’d expected; she hadn’t stuttered, which was a victory in and of itself, considering that fear of him had caused her to nearly lose her voice completely.

 

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be stupid, girl. We’re all you’ve got. Do you think your _friends_ will want you once they know what you really are? You’re a demon, plain and simple.”

 

“I might be a demon, but there’s nothing wrong with that,” she shot back, feeling angry. “It’s not what you are, it’s what you do.”

 

“You’re just like your mother.” She thought she saw pain in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by a rage so potent it sent her back a step. “Just a whore like your mother.”

 

Tara felt as though she’d been slapped, and she felt an arm circle her shoulders, knowing without looking that it belonged to Willow. “Tara, we’re needed.”

 

“You can’t stay with them!” Donnie spoke now. He had always taken his cues from their—no, _his_ —father, and this time was no different. Tara wondered what her childhood might have been like if the man who wasn’t her father had actually treated her like his daughter and not a second-class citizen. “You get into that trailer or I’ll beat you down so hard you won’t get up.”

 

Tara sensed that Wesley or Willow both were ready to attack, and she decided to go on the offensive herself. She needed to do this. “Be quiet, Donnie.”

 

The words she spoke were authoritative and completely effective. Although his mouth kept moving, no sound came out, and her father stared at her in horror. “What did you do?”

 

“It’ll wear off in a day or so,” she replied. “As long as he’s out of town by then. I suggest you all leave before that evil you say is in me really comes out.”

 

It took them all of thirty seconds to clear out, not even looking back at her. Tara felt relief and a profound sadness all at the same time. They weren’t her family, not anymore, but they were the people she’d grown up with, the people who should have protected her, who should have loved her.

 

“Well done, Tara.” Wesley’s quiet words of praise, combined with Willow’s warm arm holding her tight, were exactly what she needed.

 

“So, is there something up, or did you just say that so you could interrupt?” she asked Willow.

 

The other witch looked slightly sheepish, but said, “No, there really is something up. Spike and Buffy found one of the people who was responsible for Dawn. They want us to look into finishing the memory spell.”

 

Tara smiled. “Good. Let’s get started.”

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn sat down in the row behind Willow and Tara, wondering if she should try the whole “I’m a demon fighter, how can I help?” line. She wondered if she’d be believed.

 

Not that they would necessarily have a reason to doubt her; it wasn’t like she’d given any indication that she was with the Council. Of course, if she were Buffy, Quinn knew that she’d be suspicious of any self-proclaimed demon fighter cozying up to her and her friends.

 

She sat through class, unable to pay attention, wondering if she how she should approach this.

 

Quinn had nearly decided not to say anything at all when class ended and Tara turned to face her. “How are you?”

 

She was so surprised to have been addressed that she was momentarily speechless. “I’m alright,” Quinn managed. “Thanks for asking.”

 

Tara gave her an encouraging smile, then left, leaving Quinn to wonder what her next step was going to be. When her cell phone rang, she answered it immediately, without looking at who was calling.

 

She wished she had in the next moment.

 

“Ms. O’Mara. I haven’t received any new information from you.”

 

“I’ve had to keep my distance,” Quinn responded. “I don’t want to raise suspicions.”

 

“There have been new developments.” Travers sounded pleased with himself, which made her nervous. “I want you find out what Wesley Wyndam-Pryce’s reading of the prophecy might be. I need to know what they know.”

 

“How am I supposed to do that?” she asked, more sharply than she intended.

 

Travers’ voice was cold. “I don’t care. Break into his apartment if you must, but I want answers Ms. O’Mara. You realize that there are other Watchers who could take over your sister’s care—Watchers who might not be as concerned for her well-being perhaps.”

 

Quinn swallowed the curse on the tip of her tongue, her anger burning brightly. She knew that Travers was trying to blackmail her, but she didn’t think it would have quite the effect he wanted.

 

Her mind had just been made up for her.

 

“I’ll do what I can,” she promised, but the promise was to herself.

 

Once the Slayer knew what she’d been sent to do, it was entirely possible that Buffy would refuse to help her. It was even possible that Travers would carry through with his threat and reassign her parents should he find out that she’d “gone native,” as he might say.

 

If there was one thing Quinn hated, however, it was a bully, and she refused to allow Travers to force her into a corner like this.

 

Now, she just needed to plan her approach.

 

~~~~~

 

They were holding yet another meeting; Buffy wondered if the meetings would ever be over. She wanted action right now, even though she was still sore from the Hellbitch’s attack.

 

She had more information now, at least. The Beast—also known as Glory—was a Hellgod who had been kicked out of her own dimension into theirs. The only way for her to get home was to use the Key, but in doing so, she’d destroy their world and a bunch of others.

 

Being a self-centered twit, she didn’t care.

 

Buffy’s job was to keep her from finding the Key, and to make sure she didn’t do too much damage. Finding a way to kill her would be nice, too.

 

Luka didn’t seem terribly hopeful about killing her; mostly, he just didn’t want the world to end, and the prophecy indicated that Spike was going to prevent that.

 

Buffy wasn’t sure whether to feel left out or not.

 

“So, can you do it?” Buffy asked.

 

Willow shrugged. “Yes and no. We can probably finish the spell for Dawn so that all her memories are in place. But beyond that it’s hard to say whether the spell would be successful. It might be 100% successful, and suddenly Dawn is a full-fledged member of the family. Or, you might have a weird mish-mash of memories.”

 

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “What if you gave Dawn another set of memories?”

 

“What do you mean?” Wesley asked.

 

“What if you gave her memories that match her background story? Even if you were successful in completing the spell that the monks started, we would still have a lot of damage control, right?”

 

“You’d think so,” Spike said. “We’d have to get different papers, convince everyone that what they remember isn’t real.”

 

“It would be a mess.” Giles’ tone was flat. “And if Glory realizes that you are the one with her Key, she’ll begin asking questions.”

 

“Do you think she’ll suspect it’s Dawn?” Willow asked, sounding worried. “I mean, how would she know that it’s a person?”

 

“There is no way she can know. Only those who are not fully in this world can see her in her true form.” Brother Luka spoke for the first time. Spike had found him something to wear that wouldn’t look so out of place, but he seemed uncomfortable in his jeans and t-shirt.

 

Tara spoke softly, but the room was correspondingly quiet to allow everyone to hear her. “I think we should let Dawn make the decision. Either way.”

 

Spike’s eyebrows went up. “What makes you say that?”

 

“She had no choice in coming to be,” Tara said. “I think she should have some choice in deciding what happens to her next.”

 

“I think that Joyce should also be consulted.” Giles cleared his throat. “She will be rather upset if she’s not. I believe she’s growing rather attached to Dawn.”

 

“Fine.” Buffy crossed her arms. “I should patrol tonight. Can you guys figure out whether you can create a new set of memories? I think that will be our best option.”

 

“We’ll work on it, Buffy,” Willow promised.

 

“Great. Spike?”

 

He followed her out the door, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “God.”

 

“You okay?”

 

“I’m going crazy,” she admitted.

 

Spike smirked. “What you need is a good hunt.”

 

“What I need is a good something.” She let her eyes tell him what she wanted, and then she ran.

 

Buffy used every ounce of speed she had to her advantage, feeling the thrill of being pursued, and yet knowing that when he caught her—if she let him catch her—she would be completely safe.

 

Her hair whipped around her face, and she wished briefly that she’d thought to pull it back, but that thought was gone in the next moment, forgotten in the thrill of it all.

 

Buffy headed for one of the cemeteries she knew would be deserted, one that had little undead activity. Flying past gravestones, she headed towards a clearing they had used for private trysts in the past.

 

She sensed it coming before Spike hit her from behind with a flying tackle, taking the brunt of the fall himself, making sure she wound up on top.

 

“My favorite position,” she murmured into his ear.

 

He chuckled. “I had no idea.”

 

In another moment, they were fumbling with buttons and zippers desperately, wanting nothing more than skin on skin. Buffy wanted him inside her; she wanted the quick rush of endorphins.

 

She wanted the connection.

 

When it was over, Spike cradled her close, and Buffy basked in the sense of security he gave her. Hell, that they gave each other.

 

“I love you.”

 

She felt his smile, even though she couldn’t see it. “I love you, too.”

 

~~~~~

 

From her vantage point, Quinn tried to back away as silently as possible. She had seen Buffy being chased and had thought to help her, thinking it was the least she could do.

 

When she’d realized what exactly was going on, she’d wanted to leave, but was afraid that they would know someone had been watching.

 

Her face blazing, she inched away, desperate to leave, feeling much the same way she had when she’d walked in on her parents. That’s what their passion had reminded her of—and her parents had been married for over thirty years.

 

Quinn still needed to find a time to approach them, but it could wait. Right now, she had some sexual frustration of her own to work off.

 

As she began the hunt for members of the undead, Quinn tried to repress her feelings of jealousy.

 

In truth, she’d give her right arm for passion like that.


	13. Chapter 13

**“If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange/And be all to me? Shall I never miss/Home-talk and blessings and the common kiss/That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange,/When I look up, to drop on a new range/Of walls and floors, another home than this?/Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is/Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change?/That’s hardest. If to conquer love, has tried,/To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove;/For grief indeed is love and grief beside./Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love./Yet love me—wilt thou?/Open thine heart wide,/And fold within the wet wings of thy dove.” ~Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “Sonnet 35: If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange”**

 

“Okay, one thing at a time,” Wesley said. “First, the map. Spike wanted to make sure that was done, because Dawn has a party to go to on Friday.”

 

“And he wants to track her.” Willow held up the map. “It’s done. I finished it with Xander last night.”

 

“Perfect.” Wesley turned to his to-do list, complete with required ingredients for the various spells. He’d taken to making lists lately, because otherwise he _would_ forget something. “Next, the memory spell.”

 

They all looked at Luka. “Can it be done?”

 

Luka nodded in response to Willow’s question. “I believe so. The original spell was not complete; she is still…” He trailed off, appearing to search for the right word.

 

“Malleable?” Tara suggested.

 

Luka nodded. “Yes, this is a good word.”

 

“Do we need anything special?” Wesley asked, handing him the list he’d made up.

 

Luka scanned the ingredients then shook his head. “No, this is all.” He looked worried. “I do not know that I can do this. I was the least of my brothers.”

 

Wesley almost pointed out that he was now the last of the monks, so he’d have to manage, but he held back at the last minute. Pointing that out might be slightly insensitive.

 

“Just do your best,” Tara soothed. “I’m sure that with all of us involved, we’ll be able to get it done.”

 

Wesley wondered if she knew that for certain, if her ancestry gave her some kind of ability beyond what she’d already had. She certainly seemed to be far more self-confident after facing down her family. Wesley only wished he could say the same.

 

“I think Spike and Buffy were going to talk to Joyce and Dawn about the possibility this evening,” Willow said. “If they decide to go ahead, we can do it tomorrow evening.”

 

“That would be fine.” Wesley noted that Luka still looked worried, but he couldn’t blame the man. He’d been through quite a bit in the last few weeks, and it didn’t appear as though things were going to slow down anytime soon.

 

~~~~~

 

“I don’t understand,” Dawn said flatly. “Why can’t they just do the same spell?”

 

“It’s too late for that, Dawn,” Buffy explained. “Too many people already know that you’re not…” She trailed off, realizing that to just come out and say that Dawn wasn’t truly Joyce’s child would hurt her feelings.

 

“That you aren’t really my family.”

 

Spike sighed. “It’s not about that, Dawn. The monks’ plan was to interweave you into our memories. Now that we know you, that isn’t possible.”

 

“What would happen if I did go through with it?”

 

“Whatever you decide, you’ll have a place here, Dawn,” Joyce said gently.

 

Dawn stared at her suspiciously. “Why? Why would you want to do something like that?”

 

“Because you need a place to go, and I’m happy to help.”

 

Something in her mother’s voice told Buffy that this wasn’t just about giving a place to a needy kid; Joyce had never really been a part of her Slayer activities. She had always been on the periphery, doing her best to support Buffy, but never truly a part of things.

 

And now Dawn needed something that no one else could give her—she needed a mother, and Joyce was uniquely suited for the job.

 

Buffy wasn’t naïve enough to think that’s all her mom was—Joyce’s relationship with Giles had opened her eyes to her mother’s many interests—but she was needed in Buffy’s world in a way she’d never been before.

 

Dawn still appeared to be suspicious of her motives, and Buffy could understand that. The poor kid had had a lot dropped on her in a very short period of time.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Dawn,” Buffy assured her. “No matter what happens, we’re going to take care of you.”

 

“If I do this, I’ll have my memories? All of them?”

 

“You’ll have a complete set of memories,” Spike promised. “From birth to now.”

 

Dawn stared at the floor, and Buffy could see the indecision and fear on her face. This choice would change everything, and she thought that Dawn was smart enough to know that.

 

“I’ll do it,” she finally whispered. “I want to be normal.”

 

“Are you certain?” Giles asked. “Once it’s done, it can’t be undone.”

 

Dawn nodded. “I’m sure.” She paused, then said, “Can we do it now? I want to get it over with.”

 

Buffy looked at Spike, who shrugged. “I’ll give Wes a call. We’ll see if they’re ready.”

 

Joyce put her arm around Dawn’s shoulders, pulling her close and whispering in her ear.

 

The only problem that Buffy had with all of this was that it would essentially turn her father into an adulterer, and Joyce seemed okay with the idea. If Hank Summers ever showed up, how would he respond?

 

Not that she thought her dad would return. As soon as she'd turned eighteen, he’d seemed to forget that he even had a kid.

 

“Mom, can I talk to you for a minute?” Buffy needed to be sure that Joyce was okay with all of this. She led the way into the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

 

“What’s wrong, honey?”

 

“Doing this essentially means saying that Dad cheated on you.” Buffy kept her eyes on Joyce’s face, and she saw the sadness that was there and gone. “He _cheated_ on you?”

 

Joyce shook her head. “I don’t know that, Buffy.”

 

“But you don’t know that he didn’t,” she said flatly.

 

“Your father traveled for his job.” Joyce spoke quietly. “There were times when I suspected that he might have—done something, but I never had proof.”

 

For some reason, this betrayal felt worse than his abandonment had.  Buffy felt as though her father had left all over again. “Is that why you got divorced?”

 

“No.” Joyce smiled sadly. “We grew apart, Buffy. Nothing has changed.”

 

Buffy nodded, although she couldn’t agree. Everything had changed as far as she was concerned. An hour before, she would have happily welcomed a visit from her father; now, she never wanted to see him again.

 

As though sensing her thoughts, Joyce pulled her into a hug. “I may have my suspicions, Buffy, but he was a good husband and a good father.”

 

“He left me, Mom. As soon as I…” She stopped. This wasn’t something they talked about.

 

“I know.” Joyce kissed her cheek. “It’s going to be fine.”

 

“You’ve got the new baby, and Dawn,” Buffy whispered. “What if this is too much?”

 

“I know my limits.” Joyce pulled back to look her in the eye. “Where do you think your strength comes from?”

 

Buffy smiled. “I know it comes from you.”

 

~~~~~

 

This hadn’t exactly been Giles’ preferred way to spend his Wednesday evening. In truth, having Dawn around had put a serious crimp in his relationship with Joyce, although he didn’t begrudge the girl a bed. It certainly wasn’t her fault that she had nowhere else to go.

 

And although he knew that having a child around, even part-time, was probably good practice for the future, Giles had wanted to savor every childfree moment until the birth.

 

With Dawn there, it had been harder to get time alone together, and there were concerns about noise that there hadn’t been before. Giles couldn’t say that he liked it.

 

Then again, this was what Joyce wanted to do, and Giles knew that by taking Dawn in, he could help Buffy and Spike.

 

Once again, they were gathered in Joyce’s living room, with Wesley, Willow, Tara and Luka making preparations. He’d offered his services, but Wesley had explained that they didn’t need more power. Giles wondered when his life had become more about Joyce and his bookstore than being a Watcher.

 

“We’re ready,” Tara announced quietly. “Come here, Dawn.”

 

The girl sat on the kitchen chair that had been placed in the middle of the living room. “What do I have to do?”

 

“Just relax,” Willow advised. “This isn’t going to hurt a bit, I promise.”

 

Dawn didn’t appear to be convinced.

 

Giles knew from experience how the spell would work. Tara, Willow, and Wesley would feed power through Luka, who would provide guidance. In theory, Luka was the one best suited to perform the spell. Giles had his doubts, but the monk was the only one who had any experience.

 

Even if it was very little.

 

From the outside, however, it looked like they were all sitting there, staring at Dawn.

 

Fifteen minutes went by in complete silence. Buffy had chosen to wait in the kitchen with Spike; she’d said that she knew she wouldn’t be able to sit still for the entire process.

 

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light, and Dawn slumped and would have fallen out of her chair if Giles hadn’t leapt forward. He lowered her gently to the floor and looked around at the others.

 

Tara was already rising from her position on the floor to check the others, appearing not to have been affected in the least. “Willow?”

 

“I’m good,” Willow said, sounding relatively cheerful. “Wes?”

 

“If Joyce has aspirin, it wouldn’t go amiss,” he admitted.

 

Joyce quickly headed out of the room. “I’ll get it.”

 

“Brother Luka?” Tara asked. “Are you okay?”

 

The man nodded shakily. “The girl?”

 

Giles looked down at Dawn, who was still unconscious. “Her pulse is steady,” he said as his fingers pressed lightly against her neck.

 

“I’ve got her.” Spike knelt next to Giles, scooping her up in his arms and laying her on the couch.

 

Joyce was there a moment later, handing a bottle of aspirin to Wesley and putting a gentle hand on Dawn’s forehead, as though testing for a fever. “I think we should let her rest,” she decreed. She looked Wesley over with a critical eye. “And you should, too.”

 

“I won’t argue with you.” Wesley looked exhausted, as did Luka, although Tara and Willow appeared to be in better shape.

 

Spike shifted, glancing out the window. “I think we need to patrol tonight. You’ll call when she wakes up?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Giles breathed a sigh of relief once they were all gone, and he drew Joyce into his arms. “How is she?”

 

“She seems to be resting comfortably.” Joyce leaned her head against his shoulder, and he heard her tired sigh.

 

“Go on up to bed,” he murmured. “I’ll keep watch.”

 

“Are you certain?”

 

“You need to take care of yourself.” Giles put a hand on her gently swelling abdomen. “We have another doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

 

She smiled. “You remembered.”

 

“I’m not likely to forget, not when we’ll be able to find out the sex.”

 

“You don’t want to be surprised?”

 

“With as many surprises as we get daily?” He shook his head ruefully. “I think I’d prefer to be prepared.”

 

Their kiss was sweet with just a touch of heat, and Giles released her reluctantly. Easing himself into the armchair, he picked up his book and prepared to keep vigil.

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn had dithered for quite some time before finally deciding to enter the lion’s den herself. She had considered going to Wesley, but she knew that he would insist on talking to the Slayer. It would be a lot easier to go straight to the source.

 

She had mapped out where everyone lived upon first coming to town. After swinging by Spike’s townhouse and Wesley’s apartment, and realizing that no one was home, she went by the Summers’ place.

 

Spike’s car was out front, so she parked herself outside to wait for their emergence, knowing that Spike and Buffy would most likely be together.

 

She didn’t have to wait too long. She concealed herself when the others came out, wanting to talk to Buffy first, knowing that she was already outnumbered.

 

It was two on one, and no matter how kind they’d been after the incident with Dracula, she didn’t know how they’d respond when she told them the truth.

 

Buffy stopped cold when she caught sight of her, and Quinn braced herself.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Quinn pasted a pleasant smile on her face. “I needed to talk to you.”

 

“What about?” Spike sounded as though he would at least give her a chance to explain.

 

“I work for the Council.” Quinn had decided that her best option was to lay all her cards out on the table at once. “I was asked to report back on you.”

 

“And that’s changed?” Buffy’s tone make it clear that she didn’t believe that it was possible.

 

“Is there somewhere we can go?”

 

Buffy stared at her, suspicion written large over her face. “Where do you want to go?”

 

“I don’t know. My place?”

 

“We’ll go to my place,” Spike said. “I’ll drive.”

 

Quinn climbed into the backseat for the second time. “I, uh, still have Wesley’s jacket.”

 

“We’ll get it back to him.” Buffy’s tone indicated that Quinn would do better to keep her mouth shut.

 

When they pulled up in front of Spike’s townhouse, Quinn followed them into the residence and took a seat on the couch when Spike waved her to a seat.

 

“Do you want something to drink?” Spike asked.

 

Quinn shook her head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather get this over with.”

 

“Let’s get it over with then.” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. “Start by telling us why we shouldn’t kick you out right now.”

 

“I want to help.” Quinn tried to think of a way to get through to them. “Look, my younger sister was Chosen, and my parents are both Watchers. Travers threatened to turn her over to others, people who’d care sod all for her if I didn’t get this right.”

 

Buffy’s face softened slightly. “Go on.”

 

“Travers ordered me to collect information, and he wants to know how Wesley translated the prophecy.”

 

“For what reason?” Spike asked.

 

“He didn’t tell me.” At their disbelieving looks, she quickly said, “Really, he didn’t. All he wanted was for me to keep an eye on you. When he called the other day, he wanted specific details on how Wesley had translated the prophecy.”

 

“Why are you coming to us now?” Buffy still appeared skeptical, but as though she might be coming around.

 

Quinn tried to put her feelings into words. “You both saved my life. What Dracula wanted for me—” She didn’t know how to put her feelings into words.

 

“I know.” Buffy’s voice had gentled. “Okay, so we saved you from a fate worse than death.”

 

“I’ve been told my entire life that the Council knows what’s best for its Slayers,” Quinn explained. “And I believed them. I trained to become a field Watcher, just like my parents, but I wanted to be on the wet works team.”

 

“Do you know what they do?” Spike asked skeptically.

 

“Capture werewolves for rehabilitation,” Quinn replied readily. “Kill vampires, destroy demons who are threatening children and other innocents. _That_ is what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t sign up to be a spy.”

 

“Then why did you agree to do it?” Buffy demanded. “How do I know that you haven’t already betrayed us?”

 

“What could I have told them?” Quinn asked. “Look, Travers threatened my sister. He basically said that he would turn her over to someone who’d let her get killed. I am not going to stand by and allow him to do that.”

 

“So you’re coming clean.” Spike raised his eyebrows. “What about your sister?”

 

“My parents know about this. They’re ready to do what has to be done to keep her safe,” Quinn replied. She met Buffy’s eyes squarely. “Did you know that right now you’re likely to be the longest lived Slayer on record? That’s what I want for her.”

 

“What do you want from us?” Buffy asked.

 

Quinn sighed. “I wanted to be straight with you, and I wanted information that I could feed to Travers.”

 

“When do you need to make a report?”

 

“As soon as possible,” Quinn replied. “I don’t…” She trailed off, not wanting to give too much away.

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “I get it. She’s your sister, and you want to protect her. And she’s a Slayer, so I owe her something. We’ll help you, but you’re going to help us.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” Quinn meant the question. She would do what she could to help.

 

If her instincts were right, they all needed to stick together.


	14. Chapter 14

**“Of all the stars I admired, drenched/in various rivers and mists,/I chose only the one I love./Since then I sleep with the night./Of all the waves, one wave and another wave,/green sea, green chill, branchings of green,/I chose only the one wave,/the indivisible wave of your body./All the waterdrops, all the roots,/all the threads of light gathered to me here;/they came to me sooner or later./I wanted your hair, all for myself./From all the graces my homeland offered/I chose only your savage heart.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet XLVI”**

 

Wesley collapsed on the bed, exhaustion setting in. He lifted his head as Willow began unlacing his boots. “You don’t have to do that.”

 

“You’re wiped out,” Willow replied. “So just lay back and enjoy this.”

 

“That goes without saying.”

 

She smiled, and Wesley put his head back down. He could barely bring himself to move even when Willow snuggled up next to him. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

She kept her promise. When Wesley finally roused himself late the next morning, Willow was still sleeping peacefully next to him. He extricated himself, careful not to wake her, and made his way to the kitchen.

 

Luka had been sleeping on the couch, but he was gone this morning, and Wesley glanced around the living room. “Luka?” he called quietly.

 

There was no reply, and his eye was caught by a piece of paper on his table. He picked it up and scanned the note.

 

“Wesley? Where’s Luka?”

 

“He left.” Wesley held up the note. “This says that he would just bring danger, and that there’s another monastery he knows of that he can go to.”

 

“So he just left?” Willow took the note. “Without saying goodbye?”

 

“He was rather shaken yesterday.” Wesley sat down at the table, considering the prior day’s events. “I don’t know.”

 

Willow read the note again. “He felt useless here.”

 

“What?”

 

“Read between the lines, Wesley. He’s not a fighter, he’s not a powerful magician. He felt useless here, and so he left.”

 

“Well, I can’t deny that this makes it easier.” He hated to say it, but it was true. He’d just been wondering what they were going to do with the monk long-term. “He was at risk from Glory as well.”

 

“I have to wonder why we haven’t seen her yet.”

 

“Count your blessings,” Wesley replied dryly, rising to make the coffee. “She hurt Buffy rather badly. I don’t think we want her around.”

 

“But who knows what she’s doing?” Willow grimaced. “If she’s a Hellgod, I doubt that she’s sipping tea and watching the Food Network.”

 

“The Food Network?”

 

“It seemed relatively innocuous, and that was the point, wasn’t it?”

 

“Fair point.” Wesley smiled. “What do you have to do today?”

 

“Classes,” Willow replied. “But then I could play hooky.”

 

“I like that idea.”

 

Willow gave him a quick kiss. “I should brush my teeth. Morning breath.”

 

He smiled. “I still love you.”

 

“Ditto.”

 

“I’ll call Spike and Buffy to let them know about Luka.” He watched her as she left the room, marveling at how attractive she was to him. They had been together for a year, and she still turned him on.

 

He dialed the familiar number, hearing the growl on the other end that told him he’d probably just woken Spike. “Spike, it’s Wesley. Luka left this morning.”

 

“What?”

 

“He left a note saying that he was going to a monastery that would give him shelter, and that his continued presence would increase the danger. Willow thinks that when you read between the lines, he was feeling useless.”

 

Spike sighed. “I admit that this will make things easier for us. If he stuck around, it would be a sure sign to Glory that we know where the Key was.”

 

“That’s what I thought as well.” Wesley cleared his throat. “Are you going to need anything from us today?”

 

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Spike replied. “We got a visit from our local spy last night. She wants in on the action.”

 

“This is Quinn O’Mara?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Ask Giles about her parents,” Wesley advised. “He’ll know the O’Maras.”

 

Spike snorted. “We’ll drop by the store on our way to patrol tonight. If we don’t get some hunting in soon, we’re going to have vampire problems on top of everything else.”

 

“Give us a call if you want help.”

 

“I’ll let you know,” Spike promised.

 

Wesley took a deep breath, and let out a sigh of relief. One day to relax was all he wanted, and spending that time with Willow was the icing on the cake.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn woke when Joyce called her name. “Huh?”

 

“Do you feel up to going to school today, sweetheart? I can call you in sick if you don’t.”

 

For a moment, Dawn wondered why she’d feel sick. She had been fine the day before. The day’s events came rushing back in that moment, and she sat up quickly. “How long was I asleep?” She glanced around the spare room. “And how did I get up here?”

 

“You slept the clock around,” Joyce said. “And Giles carried you up when we realized that you were going to sleep through the night. How are you feeling?”

 

Dawn considered the question. She didn’t feel any different, but now she knew Joyce was Hank’s ex-wife. She remembered that her dad hadn’t known about her. Her mom hadn’t said anything because it had been a one-night-stand, and she’d known he had a family.

 

She had come to Buffy because she’d had nowhere else to go after her mother’s death. Joyce had offered to let her stay there because Buffy was still in school, and if Social Services caught wind of it, she had a better shot at not going into the system.

 

All of this information was now simply _there_. Where before Dawn had had trouble remembering specific details about her life before Sunnydale, her past was clear. She could see her mother’s face, and she remembered her first bike, her first day of school—everything.

 

But overlaying all of that was the knowledge that she wasn’t truly real, that until a week ago, she had existed only as a ball of energy somewhere.

 

And she had no idea what to do with that fact.

 

“I’m okay,” Dawn finally said. “I can go to school today.”

 

Joyce gave her another concerned look and left, leaving her to get ready. Dawn wondered if it even mattered if she went to school. Technically, there was no one to care. Joyce wasn’t even related to her, nor was Buffy. She could just stay in bed.

 

But something made her get up anyway. Her memories might be fake, but they _felt_ real, and her (fake) mom had made her promise to go to school, get an education, and to be a good girl.

 

It seemed like enough of a goal right now.

 

~~~~~

 

“You look worried. Is there something wrong?”

 

Joyce glanced over at Rupert and smiled as she shook her head. “No, everything is fine.”

 

“And the worry?”

 

“You know me too well.”

 

“I should hope so by this point.”

 

“It’s Dawn. She was very quiet this morning, and I wonder how she’s handling all of this.”

 

Giles shook his head. “I don’t know her well enough to say. I would think that by giving her time and the opportunity to live as normal a life as possible, she would come through alright.”

 

“Perhaps.” Joyce shook her head. “I’m a mother, so I worry. It’s inevitable.”

 

“I think I know how you feel.”

 

Their eyes met, and Joyce saw a wealth of feeling in his handsome face. There were more lines than there had been when they’d first met, and more gray in his hair, put there by the same worry she’d felt.

 

Concern for Buffy might have been the first thing that bonded them, but it hadn’t been the last.

 

“Mrs. Summers?” The nurse called her from the hall, and Joyce rose, pulling Giles with her. Glancing over at him, she could see the excitement and nervousness in his face, likely because today was the day they would discover whether it was a boy or girl.

 

Although all he’d said was that he wanted the baby to be healthy, Joyce couldn’t help but wish for a boy. The chance that a second daughter would be a Slayer might be small, but Joyce didn’t want to chance it.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles took a sip of his tea and considered the question. “I do remember the O’Maras,” he admitted. “But they were not terribly popular, and they tended to keep to themselves.”

 

“At this point, that may not be a mark against them,” Spike replied.

 

He smiled thinly. “Indeed.”

 

“Is there any reason they weren’t popular?” Buffy asked.

 

They were tucked away in Giles’ cluttered office at the bookstore. Spike and Buffy had dropped by on the way out to patrol, and Giles wondered if they would be looking for Glory. There had been no sign of her since the first run-in, and neither were the sort to wait for trouble to come to them.

 

“No real reason, other than the fact they were too interested in one another and their children to engage in political machinations,” Giles finally said. “They were known as good, solid Watchers, and because both of their daughters were marked as Potentials, they spent much of their time training them.”

 

“Quinn said her younger sister was Chosen recently. Why wouldn’t the Council have notified us?”

 

Giles rubbed his forehead. “I honestly don’t know, unless they were concerned that it would somehow give away Quinn’s true purpose.”

 

“And Quinn?” Spike pressed. “What do you know about her?”

 

Giles shook his head. “Nothing, really. She was never mentioned, except in relation to her parents. I knew that she was a Potential, and that her training was going well. That was it.”

 

He hated to give bad advice, to make a suggestion that would bring harm, but in this situation, Giles had no idea what to do. “If she is telling the truth, Quinn would be a tremendous asset. If she is instead a very clever sort of spy, by purporting to work with you while really passing along sensitive information to the Council, things could get very bad, very quickly.”

 

“The Council wants the Key,” Buffy said quietly. “And now we know that means Dawn. Quinn doesn’t have to know what Dawn really is. We could use her.”

 

Spike nodded slowly. “We could. At the very least, we can pass along misinformation to the Council. If they find out that we have the Key, and I haven’t brought it to them, it could get very ugly.”

 

He and Buffy glanced at each other, and both stood. “Thanks for the info, Giles.” As they turned to leave, Buffy paused in the doorway. “Wasn’t the doctor’s appointment today?”

 

“It was.” Giles had been wondering when someone would ask.

 

“And?” Buffy gave him a look that said she knew he was stalling and didn’t appreciate it.

 

A slow smile graced his face. “It’s a boy.”

 

As he accepted their congratulations, Giles couldn’t help but feel relieved that he would never be father to a Slayer, other than Buffy.

 

He’d already decided that his son would have the choices that he—and his Slayer—hadn’t.

 

~~~~~

 

“This isn’t working.”

 

“We’ve only been here an hour.”

 

Buffy hid her sigh. After a satisfactory sweep of the cemeteries, where both of them had racked up half a dozen vampires each, they had turned towards the warehouse district where they had first run into Glory.

 

Spike held up a hand. “Hang on.” She stopped, straining her ears to try and hear what Spike was referring to, but there were only the ordinary sounds of the night. “This way.”

 

Buffy followed him, trusting to his superior hearing to lead them in the right direction. Even if they didn’t find Glory, there was often a vampire nest or two in the area.

 

Spike picked up the pace suddenly, and Buffy began jogging to keep up. Stopping at a fire escape, he motioned her over. She let him toss her up, unsurprised when he joined her in one bound.

 

They climbed the stairs as quietly as possible, finally coming to a broken window four stories up.

 

Buffy slipped inside, edging away from the window on the catwalk, waiting for Spike to join her. She heard what Spike must have—the unmistakable sound of flesh pounding flesh.

 

“You’ll tell me what I want to know!”

 

She couldn’t see who was below from her current angle, but Buffy recognized the voice. When the reply came moments later, she recognized the second person as well just from the distinct accent.

 

“I do not know.”

 

There was the sound of another smack, and Buffy glanced at Spike. They both began creeping along the catwalk, hoping to get a better look at what was going on below.

 

“Where is my _Key_?” Glory’s voice rose in pitch as she shouted out the words, sounding frustrated and angry. “I _know_ you know.”

 

“I will not.” Clearly, those three words were the most that Luka could manage. Buffy realized that he must have been captured by Glory before he’d gotten very far; she’d likely had most of the day and the night to work on him, and he still hadn’t given Dawn up.

 

She was impressed; there weren’t many who could stand up to that kind of punishment. Then again, who knew how much longer he would last?

 

As though reading her mind, Spike whispered. “You get Luka, I’ll take Glory.”

 

“Spike, I—”

 

“Fair’s fair, Slayer.” He cut her off with grim humor. “You had your shot the last time. It’s my turn.”

 

Buffy knew when he wasn’t going to back down, and she nodded reluctantly. “Be careful.”

 

“Always.”

 

And with that as their unspoken signal, Spike dropped from the catwalk, landing on top of Glory, leaving Buffy to make her slower way down.


	15. Chapter 15

**“O World! O Life! O Time!/On whose last steps I climb,/Trembling at that where I had stood before;/When will return the glory of your prime?/No more—Oh, never more!/Out of the day and night/A joy has taken flight:/Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar/Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight/No more—Oh, never more!” ~Percy Bysshe Shelley, “A Lament”**

 

Quinn hadn’t meant to follow Buffy and Spike. She’d been blowing off steam by hunting vampires in the warehouse district when she’d seen them climbing a fire escape.

 

Although it wasn’t feasible for her to follow them inside by that route without a boost, it didn’t take too long to find another entrance on the second floor. She had to climb a drainpipe to get inside, but Quinn’s parents had likened her to a monkey as a child, and she’d retained those skills.

 

She slipped inside, finding herself on a rickety staircase. Moving as silently as possible, Quinn edged down the stairs, wincing every time they creaked under her feet. As she moved lower, she could see a woman standing in front of a man, who was tied to a chair.  She was asking him about a key and hitting him every time he refused to answer.

 

Quinn saw Spike drop on top of the woman, knocking her to the ground, but Buffy was nowhere to be seen. She knew that the Slayer had to be close by, however.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the woman demanded. She threw Spike off, sending him flying at least twenty feet. “Don’t you realize that I need some time alone with my holy man?”

 

“I don’t see your name on him, ducks,” Spike replied insolently. “And we managed to snatch him out from under your nose once before.”

 

Her eyes narrowed, and Quinn began to ease forward, recognizing that the woman’s attention was elsewhere. The woman didn’t appear to be dressed appropriately for a round of torture, and with her green satin dress and heels, Quinn would have pegged her for a high-class streetwalker.

 

“It’s _you_.” She began advancing on Spike, completely forgetting the man tied to the chair. “I’m going to rip your head off.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Spike danced backwards, just out of her reach. “Somehow, I think you’re a lot of talk and no action, Glory.”

 

Glory let out a scream of frustration and went after him. Quinn darted forward and pulled out her boot knife, slicing the bonds on the man with one clean stroke. “I’m getting you out of here.”

 

“No. Save yourself.”

 

“Forget it,” Quinn replied.

 

Buffy was suddenly on the other side of the man. “We’re getting you out of here, Luka.” She glanced at Quinn. “I want you to get him to the hospital. I need to help Spike.”

 

“Who is she?” Quinn asked.

 

“Glory is a Hellgod, and she’s not happy.” Supporting Luka between them, they managed to get him to the alley just outside the warehouse. Quinn noted that Buffy had vampire dust on the knees of her trousers and a streak of dirt on one cheek. The Slayer had been busy. “Can you get him from here?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Buffy managed a grim smile. “Thanks.”

 

“You must tell her,” Luka whispered as Quinn headed out of the alley, trying to support as must of his weight as possible.

 

“Tell her what?” Quinn asked, trying to be gentle.

 

He gasped. “I cannot…”

 

Quinn lowered him carefully to the ground. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We’ll rest here for a minute, then we have to get to the hospital.”

 

“The Key…they must protect.”

 

“I’m sure she will,” Quinn assured him. “She’s the Slayer.”

 

“No, Spike. There are soldiers. They must…” Luka’s voice faded, and Quinn realized that they weren’t going to reach the hospital.

 

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I’ll tell them whatever you want me to.”

 

His battered face was pale, his breath came in short gasps for air. “Tell them…” Luka’s voice trailed off, and he went limp in Quinn’s arms.

 

Quinn pushed a bloody hand through her short, dark hair, not caring that it left smudges on her face. There was nothing she could do for Luka, and she had no intention of sticking around and answering questions about the body when she could be helping Buffy and Spike. She made her way back inside the warehouse, trying to make her entrance as silently as possible.

 

Glory was still inside. Buffy was slumped against one wall and appeared to be unconscious; Spike was still battling the Hellgod, but he was obviously flagging.

 

She met his eyes during a brief pause in the fight, and he nodded towards Buffy’s body. Quinn decided that the defenseless person was her first priority, and she hauled Buffy up in a fireman’s carry, grateful for the four or five inches she had on the Slayer.

 

Hauling Buffy outside, she debated on going back in for Spike, but the vampire came barreling out of the warehouse. “Let’s go.”

 

“What about Glory?”

 

“She’s having some sort of attack,” Spike replied. “Let’s go while the going is good. Where’s Luka?”

 

“Dead. I left him in the alley. Where are we heading?” Quinn asked. Spike had taken Buffy’s still body from her, and he was moving at a fast clip, forcing her to jog in order to keep up.

 

“Wesley’s place is closest.”

 

Since he didn’t tell her to go home, Quinn followed him.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley opened the door to Spike, moving aside quickly when he saw that the vampire was carrying Buffy in his arms. “Is she okay?”

 

“Unconscious,” Spike replied. “I think she’ll be fine.”

 

Wesley was a little surprised to see Quinn behind him, but he thought it might be a little rude to refuse her entry. “Quinn.”

 

“I wanted to see how she was,” the young woman explained, not meeting his eyes.

 

“It’s okay,” Spike said. “She’s earned some consideration.”

 

Wesley nodded politely. “Take Buffy back to the bedroom, Spike. She’ll be comfortable there.”

 

He watched as Spike carried the Slayer back into the bedroom, and he waved Quinn to a seat on the couch. “Do you want something to drink?”

 

“Can I use your bathroom?” Quinn asked.

 

“Of course. First door on your right, down that hall.”

 

When she emerged a few minutes later, she had washed the blood off her face and hands. “Thanks.”

 

“Of course. How have you been?” he asked politely.

 

“Well, thanks.”

 

“The bite wound?”

 

Her hand went to her neck self-consciously. “It’s healing.”

 

“Good.”

 

A heavy silence fell. Wesley wasn’t quite sure what to say to the supposed spy.

 

There was a brief knock at the door, and Willow and Tara breezed inside. “Hey, Wes.” Willow greeted him with a hug and kiss. “How are you?”

 

“Spike brought Buffy in a few minutes ago,” Wesley said. “They’re in the bedroom.”

 

Tara and Willow both headed back to the bedroom, although Tara emerged a few moments later. “Buffy’s awake, Wes,” she said. “You’re needed.”

 

Wesley glanced at Quinn, who was still looking very uncomfortable, and went back to the bedroom. “What’s going on?” he whispered. “Are you okay, Buffy?”

 

“A little bruised, but I’ll be fine. I don’t think we can say the same for Luka.” Buffy looked grim. “Glory worked him over pretty good.”

 

“Where is he now?”

 

“Quinn said that he died.”

 

“What are we going to do about her?” Willow asked.

 

“She’s earned some trust.” Spike didn’t appear happy but Wesley wasn’t sure if that was because he didn’t like trusting someone from the Council, or because Buffy had been hurt. “Travers wants to know how you translated the prophecy. Give Quinn what you found on the copy that the Council gave you. We’ll keep Robert’s to ourselves.”

 

“Anything else?” Wesley asked.

 

Buffy rose from the bed. “She doesn’t know about the ring, and she doesn’t know about Dawn. Other than that, I think we can let her have whatever information she needs to convince Travers that she’s doing her job. She says she wants to help us, and she has to report something to the Council, so we’ll give her a chance.”

 

Wesley wondered if they were making a mistake, but he couldn’t disagree with their logic. Anything they could do to control the flow of information to the Council would be good.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara sat next to Quinn on the couch. “How have you been?”

 

“Alright.”

 

She twisted to get a better view of the other woman’s neck. “How’s the bite wound?”

 

“It’s fine. It’s healing.”

 

“Can I look?”

 

Quinn moved so that Tara had better access, and with a gentle hand, Tara examined the wound, trying to avoid noticing the freckles across the bridge of Quinn’s nose, or how long her eyelashes were.

 

The wound was healing well, but there was no doubt it would scar. “Was that the first time?”

 

“Yeah. I’ve fought vampires, werewolves, even a few zombies, but I’ve never been bitten by anything.” Tara could see the conflict in Quinn’s eyes. “I feel like an idiot.”

 

“For falling victim to the most notorious vampire in history?” Tara smiled. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.” Quinn attempted a smile, but Tara sensed that her capitulation to Dracula’s mind games was only part of the problem. “You know, if you want to talk sometime, I’d be happy to listen.”

 

Tara knew that such an offer presented a risk. Although it appeared as though they were going to trust that Quinn was sincere in her offer to help, there was always the chance that Quinn would betray them.

 

Or her. Tara had to wonder whether Quinn would spurn her offer of friendship once she discovered that Tara was half-demon.

 

“Thanks.” Quinn leaned back into the couch cushions, her leather jacket creaking a bit, relaxing for the first time. “You’d think I’d be old enough to not get homesick.”

 

“I don’t know that you’re ever too old to be homesick.” Tara decided that it was worth trying to make a connection with the other woman. “I still miss my mom.”

 

“Your mom? Is she—”

 

Tara heard the unspoken question. “Yeah. When I was a teenager.”

 

“I miss England,” Quinn admitted. “And my parents. I’m used to being able to visit when I’m not working.”

 

“Where are they now?”

 

“Cleveland—the other Hellmouth, with my sister. Brynn’s only fourteen.”

 

“Young.”

 

“One of the youngest Slayers called. I thought it was going to be me.”

 

“You?”

 

“I was a Potential. I trained to be a Slayer until I was 18, and then it was too late.” Quinn shook her head. “You don’t want to know any of this.”

 

“No, it’s interesting.” Tara spoke the truth. She found herself intrigued by the other woman in a way she hadn’t been in a very long time. Quinn was tall and well built, and with her short hair and dark clothing, she came across as something of a rebel, but there was a vulnerability in her eyes that told Tara that wasn’t all Quinn was.

 

Maybe it was foolish, and she might be setting herself up for a broken heart, but there were some risks worth taking.

 

Quinn looked hesitant. “This is probably going to sound stupid, but do you want to get coffee sometime?”

 

“That doesn’t sound stupid,” Tara assured her. “I’d like that. After our next class?”

 

“Perfect.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy sat on the bed in Dawn’s room, watching her get dressed. “Are you sure this is okay?”

 

“You look great, Dawnie.”

 

The teenager twirled in front of the mirror, the short blue skirt showing off long legs. Buffy had loaned Dawn a skirt, understanding Dawn’s need to fit in instinctively. Dawn looked older than her fourteen years, and Buffy knew that it was chancy to let her go to this party.

 

Then again, Buffy remembered sneaking out to go to a frat party and nearly getting eaten by a giant snake demon. It was probably a lot safer to let Dawn go with discreet supervision.

 

Dawn tugged the black form-fitting sweater. “Okay. Great. Thanks for letting me borrow the skirt, Buffy.”

 

“You can call me any time you want to,” Buffy assured her. “If things get crazy or out of control, we’re on speed dial, and we’ll come get you.”

 

“I know.” Dawn held up the cell phone that Spike had given her. “I’ve got it.”

 

“You don’t have to go.”

 

“I want to.” She took a deep breath. “This is my chance. If I don’t show up, they’re going to think I’m scared.”

 

Buffy smiled. “You’ll be fine.”

 

Joyce wouldn’t have allowed Dawn to go if there was going to be alcohol at the party; Buffy knew that her mom had called the parents of the girl who had invited Dawn. They had promised that they would be there supervising.

 

“What if people know?”

 

“Know what?”

 

“That I’m a freak.”

 

“Dawn…” Buffy stopped, knowing that it would be impossible to tell her that she wasn’t a freak. “Being different isn’t a bad thing, you know. I’m different, so are Spike and Tara.”

 

“Yeah, but you save people’s lives. I don’t do anything.”

 

“You’re fourteen, Dawn.”

 

“Actually, I’m millions of years old—or two weeks old, depending on how you look at it.” Dawn grimaced. “How am I supposed to answer their questions?”

 

“You know the answers, Dawn. That’s what the memory spell was about—to help you answer those sorts of questions.” They hadn’t talked about the outcome of the spell. “How is it?”

 

“How is what?”

 

“The memories.”

 

Dawn sat down next to Buffy, running a hand over the striped bedspread—a hand-me-down from Buffy’s high school days. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I remember what I knew before the spell. Before that, I knew that you were my sister, and that Joyce was my mother. I knew that Spike would protect me. I had all this knowledge from school and stuff, but I didn’t know where I got it from.”

 

“And now?”

 

“There’s all this other information. I remember when my mom sat me down and explained that my dad was a man named Hank Summers, and he didn’t know about me. She told me that he was married, and he had a daughter.” Dawn glanced over at her. “None of that really happened.”

 

“No, it didn’t, but that doesn’t really matter in the end, Dawn. What matters is what you do from here on out.”

 

“Like going to this party?”

 

Buffy touched her cheek. “Like I said, you don’t have to go.”

 

“But if I don’t, the rest of the year is going to suck.”

 

“Possibly, but being popular isn’t everything.”

 

“It can make things easier.”

 

Buffy pulled her close for a hug, remembering her own years in high school, and knowing that Dawn was right. She deserved for things to be just a little easier.

 

~~~~~

 

“A Friday night alone.” Joyce let out a happy sigh. “This hasn’t happened recently.”

 

“No, it hasn’t.” Giles pulled her close. “And there’s a good chance it will be awhile before it happens again.”

 

“Mmm.” She shifted slightly to get comfortable. “Have you thought about names?”

 

“Well, I still think that you ought to make the decision, since you’re the one doing all the work.”

 

She laughed. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.”

 

“Do you have any ideas?”

 

“What was your father’s name?”

 

“Nigel.”

 

Joyce let her silence speak for her.

 

“I’m not even going to ask what you think about Rupert.”

 

She laughed. “It’s a perfectly lovely name for you, but I’ve never been a fan of juniors.”

 

“And your father’s name?”

 

“Maxwell.”

 

“That would be a possibility.” He began to nibble on her ear. “Do we really need to talk about this now? We have plenty of time to make a decision.”

 

She smiled, wondering how Giles could make her feel sexy and desirable, even in the midst of her pregnancy; these days, she usually felt fat. “I think we can put it off.”

 

“Good.” Between the two of them, they managed to shift so that Joyce was on top, facing him. He made quick work of the buttons on her blouse, looking up at her with hungry eyes. “Have I mentioned how much I love your breasts?”

 

“Yes, but feel free to mention it again.”


	16. Chapter 16

**“Half across the world from me/Lie the lands I’ll never see—/I, whose longing lives and dies/Where a ship has sailed away;/I, that never close my eyes/But to look upon Cathay…/Under deeper skies than mine,/Quiet valleys dip and shine./Where their tender grasses heal/Ancient scars of trench and tomb/I shall never walk: nor kneel/Where the bones of poets bloom…” ~Dorothy Parker, “Hearthside”**

 

Dawn inched her way through the throng of people. The party was as crowded as she’d expected it to be, and Monica was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Hey, it’s the new girl.”

 

She stiffened as an older boy slung his arm around her shoulders. Dawn could smell alcohol and cologne, and she tried to keep the discomfort off her face. She wanted to be cool. “Hi.”

 

“I told Monica to invite you,” he said. “You want something to drink?”

 

“I’m good.” Dawn tried to figure out a polite way to extricate herself. She could hear in the boy’s voice that he expected payback for his intervention.

 

A dark-haired girl suddenly showed up in front of them, the expression on her face one of disdain. “Uh, Josh, your girlfriend is looking for you.”

 

The arm around Dawn’s shoulders disappeared. “Yeah, okay. You don’t—”

 

“Get out of here, Josh.”

 

Josh left, and Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

 

The girl shrugged. “Josh is a horndog. Any time there’s a new girl, he’s all over her.” She smiled. “I’m Ally.”

 

“Dawn.”

 

“Yeah. Come on, I’ll show you where Monica keeps the sodas.” Ally led the way through the crowd. “And by the way, at a party like this, it’s best to only drink it from the can.”

 

“I thought there wasn’t supposed to be alcohol here,” Dawn said in a low voice, following Ally’s broad back.

 

“There isn’t. Officially. Josh carries a flask, though. Most of the older guys do, and Monica always invites them.”

 

“Hey, Ally.” The kitchen was less crowded. There were a few kids in there, most of them standing next to the cooler, which was full of ice and a variety of sodas. The girl who had greeted Ally had apparently appointed herself keeper of the soda. “Diet?”

 

“God, no. It’s Friday. I’ll take a regular.”

 

The dark-skinned girl handed Ally a Coke. “Do you want something?”

 

“Uh, Sprite?”

 

“I’m Lisa, by the way.”

 

“Dawn.”

 

“We’ve got English together,” Lisa said. “And we have math with Ally.”

 

“And we have a test on Monday,” Ally pointed out. “Do you want to get together tomorrow to study?”

 

“Yeah. That would be great.”

 

Dawn was suddenly grateful that she’d come.

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn hung up the phone, giving a sigh of relief. Travers had accepted her explanation for how she’d gotten Wesley’s interpretation—she’d claimed to have broken into Wesley’s apartment to retrieve his notes.

 

Then again, this was what she’d trained for, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that she would—or could.

 

“Is it done?” Spike asked.

 

She nodded. “He didn’t seem to doubt me.”

 

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Buffy muttered. “Would he send someone else?”

 

Quinn shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. As long as he thinks I’m doing my job, he likely won’t.”

 

“Let’s keep him happy, then,” Spike said. “You’re on the team, Quinn.”

 

She wasn’t sure why relief flowed through her. Acceptance from a vampire wouldn’t have interested her six months before—but this was different. “Okay. Thanks.”

 

“We’re going to need a personal item of yours,” Buffy said. “We have a permanent locator spell set up, and we want to put you on the map.”

 

Quinn saw that request as the double-edged sword that it was. As long as she was on their side, it meant that they would be able to find her if she was in trouble. If she ever turned against them, however, it would mean they would have a quick way to locate her.

 

She recognized it as the last test it was. “Here.” Taking off a ring that her mother had given her, Quinn asked, “Will I get it back?”

 

“You’ll get it back undamaged,” Spike promised.

 

“Great.” Quinn rose from the chair. “I should get going. I’ve got a class.”

 

She did have a class, but she had also seen the looks that Buffy and Spike had been exchanging. And, having seen their passion firsthand, she would prefer to give them their space.

 

Besides, she had a meeting that she was looking forward to.

 

~~~~~

 

Glory was not having a good week. She still hadn’t found her Key, even though it should have been in her hands by now. The monk should have given her its location, but he’d remained stubbornly silent.

 

And the appearance of the Slayer and that damn vampire had deprived her of that chance.

 

The fact that the Slayer had thwarted her twice told Glory that she was the key to the whole thing—although the pun was unintentional on her part.

 

“I want her bones ground up for my bread,” Glory fumed. “I want to drink her blood straight from her jugular. And while I’m at it, I want to see that vampire turn to dust in the slowest, most painful way possible.”

 

The head Lei-Ach demon said something that Glory didn’t quite catch. “What?” He repeated himself, and she scowled. “Of course I want you to kill them. It was just an expression of speech. Don’t be stupid.”

 

He said something else. Glory could understand, of course. There wasn’t a language she didn’t speak—as long as it was a demonic language. It was part and parcel of being a Hellgod.

 

“I don’t care where you do it,” she replied impatiently. “I just want them _dead_.”

 

And if the Lei-Ach demons couldn’t do the job, Glory could do it herself, but for right now, she had other things to take care of.

 

~~~~~

 

“So.”

 

“So.”

 

Tara smiled at Quinn’s repetition. She sensed that the other girl was as nervous as she was. Although she hadn’t received a lecture from Willow about meeting with Quinn like this, she’d still understood the looks she was getting.

 

Willow was worried—not that Tara would give something crucial away, but that her heart would get tangled up with Quinn’s, and she would end up disappointed.

 

Quinn blushed, laughing. “I haven’t been this nervous in a long time.”

 

“How long has it been?”

 

“Years. There weren’t—I was the only girl in my class not interested in boys.”

 

“I know. I grew up in a small town,” Tara confided. “There weren’t a lot of girls interested in the same sort of things.”

 

Quinn nodded. “The Council is a fairly small community, you know? Everybody knows everybody, or so it seems.”

 

“You and Wesley had never met, though.” Tara wasn’t doubting Quinn’s words, but she was curious.

 

Quinn shook her head. “He was older. I’ve met his father, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect of him.”

 

“You didn’t care for his father?”

 

Quinn shrugged. “He’s a company man. I don’t know much more than that.”

 

“But you heard rumors.”

 

“Let’s just say that he has the reputation of being a hard-ass. Wesley is lucky to be out from under his thumb, I think.”

 

“And you?”

 

“My parents were great,” Quinn said. “Since I was a Potential, they were allowed to train me until I was eighteen. Then I went to the Watcher’s Academy for two years, until they realized I knew everything I needed to know.”

 

“And this is what you wanted to do?”

 

Quinn sighed. “I wanted to save the world.”

 

“Maybe you will.”

 

“What about you? You seem to be an old hand at saving the world.”

 

“Not really.” Tara took a sip of her coffee. “I got caught up in it by accident, really.”

 

She leaned forward. “Don’t tell me there’s nothing special about you. I won’t believe it.”

 

Tara tried not to blush. “Really, there’s not.”

 

“No deep, dark secrets?”

 

Tara decided that if she was in for a penny, she might as well be in for a pound. “Well, I’m half-demon, if that counts.”

 

To her credit, Quinn did no more than blink twice. “What kind of demon?”

 

“I have no idea. My mom never told me.”

 

“Mystery dad?”

 

“Something like that. I didn’t know until recently that the man I thought was my father wasn’t.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Why?”

 

“My parents are great,” Quinn explained. “I wouldn’t want to do without them.”

 

Tara nodded slowly. “I still miss my mom.” When their eyes met, Tara knew she wasn’t mistaking the connection between them, but she found it scary, rather than comforting.

 

An ordinary relationship was complicated enough; this promised to present even more difficulties.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley wiped the sweat out of his eyes and hissed as his sore arm twinged.

 

“You’re out of shape.”

 

“We can’t all have a vampire’s ability to retain muscle and skill,” he retorted. “And if I remember correctly, you were the one who told me that translating the prophecy was the only thing I should be concentrating on.”

 

Spike grinned, catching the towel that Wesley threw at him. “I did, but that doesn’t mean you can let yourself go, Wes, not when trouble is coming.”

 

“I would hardly say that I’ve let myself go.” To prove his point, Wesley moved quickly, the stake popping out of his wrist sheathe silently. He managed to catch Spike unaware for once; the stake hovered over Spike’s heart before the vampire could so much as twitch.

 

Spike swallowed. “New toy?”

 

“You were the one who said that there’s no cheating when it’s life or death.”

 

“True enough.” Spike relaxed once Wesley pushed the stake back into its sheathe. “You up for a patrol tonight?”  


“Where’s Buffy?”

 

“She needed to get some homework done, and she decided to spend some time with Dawn, and give Joyce a break, while she was at it.”

 

“In that case, I’d be happy to go. I believe Willow said something about a test that she had to study for.”

 

Spike handed him a bottle of water, which Wesley took willingly. “Midterms are coming, along with the holiday season.” He gave Wesley a sly look. “I suppose you won’t be going home this year either.”

 

“I think you can safely assume that.”

 

“Have you heard from your father?”

 

“No, but I hadn’t expected to.”

 

“And your mum?”

 

Wesley sighed. His relationship with his mother had always been a tenuous one. Perhaps because he’d been an only child, and therefore his father’s only legacy, she had always deferred to Roger. She hadn’t trained to be a Watcher; her parents had thought her temperamentally unsuited for the role.

 

“Nothing has changed,” Wesley finally said. “If my father has asked her to cut off contact with me, or if he discourages her from making contact, I won’t hear from her.”

 

“And you won’t be the first to call.”

 

“Travers put a bloody geas on you, Spike.” Wesley knew that the Council’s actions had angered the vampire, and the others, but he’d felt both betrayal and shame.

 

Betrayal, because he somehow knew that his father had been involved; shame, because he had once been a part of that sort of thing.

 

Spike clasped his shoulder. “Sometimes the past is better left behind.”

 

“Indeed.” He took a deep breath. “I suppose that it’s remotely possible that my father will contact me once Travers has seen my translation of the Council’s version of the prophecy. If he does, I’ll let you know.”

 

It was a promise Wesley didn’t expect to be called on to keep. Roger Wyndham-Pryce had made it very clear that he was washing his hands of his rebellious offspring unless Wesley toed his line.

 

And those days were long past.

 

~~~~~

 

“Well?” Travers looked at Roger from across his cup of tea, sipping slowly. They were seated in his personal study, planning their next move.

 

Roger put down the sheaf of papers that Quinn had faxed. “For all of his faults, my son is a skilled linguist. This is an excellent translation, and it clears up several points on which our people were confused.”

 

“Those points being?”

 

“The prophecy definitely refers to blood, which would indicate that the key is a person, not a thing.”

 

Travers raised an eyebrow. “I had thought that the key was pure energy. That can’t be contained in a human form.”

 

“Not forever, no,” Roger agreed. “And it’s entirely possible that the person—whomever it may be—retains some of the attributes of the key.”

 

“Very well. Do you think the vampire knows who it may be?”

 

“Unknown. The geas we placed on him should force his hand at some point, but perhaps he’s unaware of who the key may be. He was to bring it to us when he was certain.”

 

Travers’ eyes narrowed. “Perhaps, but I don’t trust it. I’d rather have another plan in place to ensure that it’s brought here. The power—if we could harness it—”

 

“And Ms. O’Mara? I thought she was your second plan.”

 

“Ms. O’Mara cannot be completely trusted. She is rather too like her parents; you know how they are.”

 

“Independent and willful.” Roger sniffed. “And the new Slayer?”

 

“Doing well, although I doubt she’ll last the year.” Travers dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “With luck, the next Slayer will be someone more malleable.”

 

“You could have assigned her to different Watchers,” Roger pointed out.

 

“The outcry would have been too great.” Travers did not like the fact that he wasn’t in complete control of every Council faction, but he was a master manipulator, and he had every intention of ensuring that the outcome was to his liking. “She had been trained by her parents since being identified. It would go against tradition to remove her once she was Called.”

 

Travers pushed the rather intractable O’Maras out of his mind. “Now, tell me. What have you discovered on the Knights of Byzantium?”

 

Roger smiled. “Their goal is to find and destroy the key. I believe they might be persuaded to work with us, provided that we do not reveal our true intentions.”

 

“Good. Make contact and do what you can to ensure their cooperation. We can at least point them in the right direction now that we know for certain that the key will appear in Sunnydale.” Travers smiled thinly. “I would imagine that Ms. Summers and the vampire will be just a bit distracted, which will allow us to take exactly what we want.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy stepped aside to allow Willow and Tara entrance. “Thanks for coming over, guys. You know how I am with history.”

 

“Where’s your mom?” Tara asked.

 

“Out with Giles,” Buffy replied. “I thought it was only fair that they get a night off, since I’m the one responsible for—you know.”

 

Willow knew exactly what Buffy meant, and she followed her friend to the kitchen, where Dawn was already doing homework. “How’s it going, Dawnie?”

 

The girl shrugged. “Okay. Algebra is so not my thing, though.”

 

“Here, let me see.” She sat down next to the teen, reading the problem.

 

“Where’s Spike?” Tara asked.

 

“Patrol.” The expression on Buffy’s face clearly indicated that she didn’t want to say more in front of Dawn.

 

Dawn glared at Buffy. “I think I should know what’s going on.”

 

“There’s nothing going on, Dawnie.”

 

“Yes, there is.”

 

“No, really, there’s not. Spike and Wesley are going on patrol, that’s it.”

 

Willow met Tara’s eyes, wondering if the other woman had noticed that Buffy and Dawn really did sound like siblings. From Tara’s half-smile, she’d noticed.

 

“What about Glory?” Dawn challenged.

 

Buffy glared at her. “How do you know about Glory?”

 

Dawn immediately looked guilty. “Uh, you told me.”

 

“No, I didn’t.” Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been eavesdropping?”

 

“How else was I supposed to find out what was going on?”

 

“Okay!” Willow said, inserting herself into the middle of the argument, even though she knew it might be a bad idea. “Fighting about it is not going to help.”

 

Buffy let out a breath. “You’re right, Will. Dawn, we’re going to take care of Glory. That’s our job, remember? Your job is to stay out of trouble.”

 

“How am I supposed to do that when I don’t know what kind of trouble to expect?”

 

Tara unsuccessfully tried to stifle her snickers. “She has a point, Buffy.”

 

“Fine.” Buffy sounded incredibly irritated. “Glory is bad news, so stay away from her. Is that clear enough for you?”

 

“What does she want?” Dawn pressed.

 

Willow saw the Slayer’s expression, and knew what was going through her head—how much of Dawn’s innocence to destroy, when she had already been exposed to so much?

 

“She wants to use you to destroy the world,” Buffy finally said. “Which makes it really important for you to stay away from her. Okay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Dawn went back to her homework, much subdued, and Willow could see the regret on Buffy’s face. None of this was exactly fair, but it didn’t seem that the monks had thought about that before creating Dawn.

 

Then again, who had ever said that life was fair?


	17. Chapter 17

**“I have been temperate always,/But I am like to be very drunk/With your coming./There have been times/I feared to walk down the street/Lest I should reel with the wine of you,/And jerk against my neighbours/As they go by./I am parched now,/and my tongue is horrible in my mouth,/But my brain is noisy/With the clash and gurgle of wine cups.” ~Amy Lowell, “Anticipation”**

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You’re limping,” Spike accused.

 

Wesley shrugged off his concern. “I told you, Spike, I’m—”

 

“Yeah, fine.” Spike wasn’t buying it for a minute. “You got hurt while we were sparring earlier. You should have said something.”

 

He shook his head. “You and I both know that it would be unwise for you—or anyone—to go out alone right now.”

 

“Just like it’s not smart to go out when you’re hurting?”

 

“I twisted my ankle,” Wesley finally admitted. “But it wasn’t while we were sparring.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I’d rather not say.”

 

“Wes…”

 

He finally bowed to the inevitable. “I fell.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Going down the stairs in my apartment building.” The words came out in a burst, as though saying it quickly would reduce the embarrassment that he felt.

 

Spike refrained from laughing—barely. “Could have happened to anyone.”

 

“That’s right, it could have.”

 

Spike froze in place. They were heading towards Restfield, and he sensed that they were being followed. “We have company.” Shooting the other man a look, he asked, “Are you up for it?”

 

“Always.”

 

Nodding, Spike whirled to face their attackers, recognizing them for Lei-Ach demons. They were nasty buggers, but they generally didn’t go after vampires. And to think, all he had was a stake and a knife against the three of them.

 

“All right there, Wes?” Spike called as he grappled with one of the demons. He could sense a second circling him, waiting for the right moment to attack. The third would be Wesley’s problem.

 

“Just…fine,” the other man gasped out.

 

Spike twisted the Lei-Ach around, wrapping an arm around his head and twisting hard. He heard the crack of the spine as it broke and turned his attention to the second demon.  He pulled the knife out of the sheath strapped to his belt and, dodging a blow, sliced its throat.

 

When he turned to look at Wesley, the man was standing over the body of the dead demon. “Got it?”

 

“Yeah.” Wesley dropped the bloody stake onto the ground and began to buckle.

 

Spike grabbed him before he hit the ground, supporting his weight. “What’s wrong?”

 

“My bloody ankle.” Wesley was grimacing in pain. “The sodding demon tripped me, twisted it worse.”

 

“Probably saw you limping,” Spike replied. “It’s what I would have done.”

 

Wesley hissed. “Thanks. You’re a real friend.”

 

“It’s the truth.” Spike adjusted Wesley’s weight. “Let’s get you to the hospital, mate.”

 

~~~~~

 

Willow rushed into the emergency room, spotting Spike immediately. “Where is he?”

 

“He’s getting x-rayed.” He patted her shoulder. “He’s fine, Red. A little sore, but his injury is nowhere near his heart.”

 

“What happened?”

 

Spike sighed. “He apparently twisted his ankle falling down the stairs of the apartment building shortly before we went on patrol. One of the demons we ran into injured it again.”

 

Willow breathed a sigh of relief. “Then he’s going to be okay?”

 

“I can’t tell you anything about his ankle, but the rest of him will be fine, pet.”

 

“Thanks, Spike.”

 

“Mr. Brighton?” A man in scrubs approached him. “I have an update on Mr. Wyndam-Pryce’s condition. He wanted me to talk to you.”

 

“How is he?” Willow demanded. At the doctor’s expression, she quickly added, “I’m his girlfriend.”

 

“He’s going to be just fine. He broke his ankle, but he’ll make a full recovery.” The doctor smiled at her. “Normally, we don’t allow anyone but family members back there, but—”

 

“We’re his family,” Spike said smoothly.

 

The doctor nodded. “Go on back, then. He’s in the second exam room.”

 

“Thanks.” Willow rushed down the hallway, her mind more at ease now that she knew that the injury, while not minor, wasn’t life-threatening.

 

“Willow.” Wesley brightened considerably when she walked in. “The doctor let you come back.”

 

She raised her eyebrows; he didn’t sound quite like himself. “Did they give you something for the pain?”

 

“Yes.” He was speaking carefully, as though drunk. “I’m feeling much better now.”

 

“I’ll bet you are,” she replied, amused. “Do you want to go home if the doctor says you can?”

 

“Only if I can go home with you.”

 

Willow shook her head. “Down, boy. Let’s get you home first, then we’ll talk.”

 

“You’re so beautiful.”

 

She laughed. “Flattery will get you nowhere except a ride home. Let me go talk to the doctor.”

 

Willow had never seen him this loopy before, and she suspected that it might be an interesting night.

 

~~~~~

 

Orlando had every intention of finding the Key. The Council had given them information as to where it would be—all he had to do was to locate it.

 

The Slayer was sure to know where the Key was, as would the Guardian. Follow them, and find the Key.

 

At least, that was the idea.

 

He stood outside the Guardian’s house; the address had been provided by the Council. The others on his team were stationed outside both ex-Watchers’ houses in hopes that if the Slayer or Guardian didn’t lead them to the Key, one of their associates would.

 

It was just a matter of time, surely, before they found the Key and destroyed it, as their credo demanded they do.

 

He watched as the Guardian unlocked the front door, his shoulders slumped wearily. A blonde woman Orlando recognized as the Slayer met him at the door with a warm embrace. Even from a distance, he could see their passion, and it gave him pause.

 

As any soldier knew, someone fought harder for a loved one. This may be more difficult than anticipated if either the Guardian or the Slayer refused to give up the object of their desire.

 

~~~~~

 

“Okay, I’m done,” Dawn announced, shoving her books to one side. “Can I watch TV now?”

 

“Won’t that rot your brain?” Spike asked, amused.

 

Dawn stared at him. “You watch _Passions_.”

 

“I do no such thing.”

 

She snorted. “I’ve seen you.”

 

He gave her a dirty look. “This stays between the two of us.”

 

“So, can I watch TV now?”

 

“Go on, then.”

 

Dawn was sprawled out on the couch when Spike wandered in to join her. “Move over.” She scooted over so that he could sit down next to her. “What are you watching?”

 

“ _Friends_. There isn’t anything else on.”

 

The silence hung between them as Chandler and Joey went on about free porn. Dawn couldn’t help but wonder how Spike felt about her, if he hated the fact that he’d been saddled with her because of the monks and some prophecy.

 

“What’s on your mind, Dawn?”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

“You look like you’re thinking pretty hard, and I’m fairly certain it’s not about the television show.”

 

“Matthew Perry is cute.”

 

“And he’s too old for you.”

 

“Shut up, Spike.”

 

He glanced over at her with a smirk on his face. “Couldn’t resist.”

 

“Are you mad?”

 

“Mad at who?”

 

“I don’t know. The universe, the monks, whoever made up the stupid prophecy.”

 

“No, I’m not mad.”

 

“But you didn’t have a choice.”

 

Spike snagged the remote and turned off the TV, turning to face her, his expression serious. “You don’t always get a choice, pet. I didn’t have much choice about becoming a vampire, or getting my soul back. I certainly didn’t have any choice about getting tortured by Angelus for a few years.”

 

“So, you’re mad about that stuff, too.”

 

“No, I’m not.”

 

“But why?”

 

“Because without all of that, I wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be with your sister.”

 

Dawn considered that for a moment. “She’s not really my sister, you know.” Spike might be happy with his lot in life, and she understood what he was saying. It was some variation of “everything happens for a reason.”

 

She just didn’t know if she believed that; after all, what if the reason was that someone made up a stupid prophecy? That didn’t mean that it would ever be worth it. Dawn wasn’t sure she wanted to think about that, though.

 

“You heard what happened with Tara, didn’t you?”

 

Dawn had no idea what the point of the question was, but she decided to go along with it. “Yeah, so?”

 

“Some people get lucky enough to be born into families who love and accept them,” Spike began. “And some people choose their own families, or have their families choose them.” He smiled. “The latter is true of Tara and us, and it’s true for you, too, luv.”

 

“Does it make me bad?”

 

“Does what make you bad?”

 

“Glory wants to use me to destroy the world.”

 

“You’re no worse than me, luv.”

 

“But you’re a hero.”

 

“I wasn’t always.”

 

“But that doesn’t matter,” Dawn insisted. “You’re a hero _now_.” At his lifted eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. “Okay, I get it.”

 

“Good. No more of this talk about you being bad, yeah? Glory’s the Hellbitch in this story.”

 

Dawn turned the TV back on, her mind a little easier.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley levered himself up off the couch with the crutches he’d been given at the hospital. He’d been warned to stay off of his leg as much as possible, but he really wanted a cup of tea, and it wasn’t going to get made while he was sitting on the couch.

 

Filling the kettle, he rotated on his good leg to put it on the hob, balancing carefully.

 

“What are you doing up?”

 

He turned to see Tara standing behind him in the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Willow asked me to come stay with you while she was at class, for just this reason.” She put her hands on her hips. “Go sit.”

 

“Tara, I was just getting a cup of tea.”

 

“And now that I’m here, I can get it. Go.”

 

Wesley realized that he didn’t have a choice, and swung himself over to the couch. Tara brought his cup of tea a few moments after he heard the kettle begin to screech.

 

“How did you think you were going to get it back out here?” she asked, sitting down next to him on the leather sofa. He’d purchased it with Willow’s help to replace the second-hand velour one he’d bought at a yard sale shortly after moving to Sunnydale.

 

Wesley took the cup from her with a smile of gratitude. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, to be honest.”

 

“Well, I’m making dinner tonight, so don’t worry about that.”

 

“Thank you, Tara.”

 

“It’s my pleasure.” She patted his cheek. “So, just sit tight.”

 

He decided to do as he was told.

 

“Do you need more pain medication?”

 

“No, I’m fine.”

 

They passed the rest of the afternoon in companionable silence while Tara studied and Wesley spent time with the prophecy. He felt as though he was missing something—as though if he pushed just a little harder, he could find something that would help.

 

“What are you looking for?”

 

He glanced up at Tara’s question. “I’m not sure. I just think that if I keep looking at it, something will occur to me that hasn’t yet.”

 

“Do you think it will?”

 

“I have to try.” She nodded, and he decided to change the topic. “Didn’t you have lunch with Quinn the other day?”

 

“Coffee.”

 

He raised an eyebrow, hearing the defensive note in her voice. “Of course, because coffee is a little more noncommittal.”

 

She sighed. “I like her, Wesley. I’m attracted to her in a way that I haven’t been in a very long time, but we don’t trust her.”

 

“I think you might be making this a little broader than it needs to be,” Wesley pointed out gently. “The question is whether _you_ trust her.”

 

“There’s too much at stake for me to make a decision on my own,” Tara objected.

 

Wesley met her eyes. “What you trust her with is up to you, but the secrets that we hold in trust for the others stay secret. There is a difference there, Tara.”

 

“It doesn’t feel different,” she objected.

 

“That I can’t help you with.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Relationships—good ones—are worth taking a risk on.”

 

“Even when the relationship is with a Watcher who’s being paid to spy on us by the Council?”

 

“I was a Watcher being paid to send reports back to the Council once upon a time.” Wesley smiled. “I don’t know that working for the Council should be an indelible black mark.”

 

“Maybe not indelible.” Tara returned his smile. “We’ll see.”

 

“I’m not saying that you should pursue this relationship, but I don’t think you should dismiss the possibility out of hand,” Wesley said. “You deserve to be happy, Tara.”

 

“A romantic relationship isn’t essential to happiness, Wesley.”

 

“No, but it doesn’t hurt.”

 

She shook her head, a reluctant smile on her face. “I’ll think about it.”

 

Wesley let it go at that. He’d only spoken the truth: Tara was one of those people most deserving of happiness and love.


	18. Chapter 18

**“Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing/Under my eye;/Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing/Over the sky./One after another the white clouds are fleeting;/Every heart this May morn in joyance is beating/Full merrily;/Yet all things must die…” ~Alfred Lord Tennyson, “All Things Must Die”**

 

The sounds of Christmas music filtered through the grocery store as Joyce pushed the cart up and down the aisles. “I don’t understand why they have to play Christmas music already,” Buffy groused. “We haven’t even had Thanksgiving yet.”

 

“Well, there isn’t any such thing as Thanksgiving music,” Joyce replied equably.

 

“Maybe, but by the time Christmas comes around, I’m sick of Christmas carols.” Buffy checked the list. “We still need pumpkin pie spice.”

 

“Will you run and get that, Dawn? It’s back a couple of aisles.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I’ll go with you.” Buffy didn’t want Dawn running around on her own, even in a relatively safe place like the Sunnydale grocery store. Somehow she didn’t see Glory making a run for snacks, but she would rather be safe than sorry.

 

Dawn glared at her. “I’ll be fine, Buffy.”

 

“I need to pick something up anyway.”

 

“What?” Dawn demanded.

 

“Cinnamon.” Buffy named the first spice that came to mind.

 

Joyce gave both girls a look that warned them very clearly to behave and get along. “Go on, both of you.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” Dawn muttered as soon as they were out of earshot of Joyce.

 

Buffy nudged her with an elbow. “Come on, Dawnie. That’s not what this is about.”

 

“So, what is it about?”

 

“Trust me. If Glory can kick my ass, she can definitely kick yours.”

 

Dawn sighed. “Fine.” They found the spice aisle, and Dawn grabbed the pumpkin pie spice. “Aren’t you going to get what you needed?”

 

“What?”

 

“Cinnamon, remember?” Dawn asked sweetly.

 

“Oh, right.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Dawn stuck her tongue out, and Buffy grabbed a container of cinnamon, having no clue what she was going to do with it. “Come on.”

 

Buffy got a bad feeling as they headed back the way they’d just come, looking for Joyce. Over the bustle of the pre-holiday grocery rush, she could hear the murmurs that signaled an accident scene.

 

“Dawn, stay back.”

 

“I thought you wanted to stay with me.”

 

“Just stay back.” Buffy pushed her way through the gathering crowd, finally catching sight of her mother sitting on the floor, an older woman rubbing her back. “Mom?”

 

“Oh, Buffy, I’m fine.” Joyce smiled reassuringly. “I just felt a little faint.”

 

“I’ve already called the ambulance,” the older woman said. “Don’t you worry, honey.”

 

“Buffy?” Dawn’s small, frightened voice had Buffy turning. “Is everything okay?”

 

“It’s going to be fine, Dawnie,” Buffy soothed. She handed Dawn her cell phone. “Call Giles and tell him that we’re going to the hospital. _Don’t_ exaggerate. Mom is going to be fine, and he doesn’t need to worry any more than he already will be.”

 

Because Joyce would be fine; Buffy refused to believe any differently.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles rushed into the emergency room, attempting to hide the panic he felt, and knowing that it was probably a fruitless endeavor.

 

“Rupert.” Spike appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “This way.”

 

“How did you—”

 

“I was the second call.” Spike ushered him towards the elevator. “They’ve admitted her for right now. They want to observe her overnight, but they don’t think Joyce or the baby is in any danger.”

 

“What happened?” Dawn hadn’t been able to tell him much on the phone, which had just added to his panic.

 

Spike shook his head. “She got dizzy, fell in the store. There was some cramping. From what I understand, this is considered a high-risk pregnancy.”

 

“Yes, but the doctor assured us that everything was alright, and the baby—”

 

“Far as I know, that’s still true, Rupes.” Spike gave him a sympathetic look. “Here we are.”

 

Giles entered the room slowly only by an exercise of will. He wanted to burst in, to demand answers and make everything all right with one wave of his hand. He was a magician; he’d been able to control demons and the elements.

 

And yet he was helpless in the face of this most common of miracles.

 

“Rupert.” Joyce held a hand out to him. “You’re here.”

 

“I came as soon as I could.”

 

“Of course you did.” Joyce squeezed his hand, and turned to Buffy. “Honey, would you—”

 

“Sure.” Buffy offered her Watcher a self-conscious smile and left.

 

Giles perched on the side of the bed. “What happened?”

 

Joyce sighed. “I feel so stupid. I just got a little faint at the store. I’m sure it was just due to the nausea this morning and not eating much.”

 

“Spike said something about cramping?”

 

She frowned. “How—damn. I always forget about that vampire hearing. That was a conversation between me and my doctor.”

 

“Were you planning on telling me?” Catching her guilty look, Giles added, “Please do not tell me that you didn’t want to worry me. It’s far too late for that.”

 

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Joyce confirmed. “But I was going to tell you. I just wanted to know what was going on first.”

 

Giles shook his head, saying nothing, knowing that he probably would have done the same thing. Waiting for answers was probably a good idea if you had the choice, and could spare your loved ones worry.

 

“Ms. Summers?” The doctor entered the room with a chart in hand. “I wanted to speak to you about the tests we ran.”

 

Giles saw the look that the doctor sent his way, and he realized that the doctor was waiting for him to leave. “I want him to stay,” Joyce said before he could say anything. “Dr. Namala, this is Rupert Giles. He’s the baby’s father.”

 

It sounded convoluted and cold in a way. How much easier would it be to be able to say “this is my husband”? Giles realized that if they were married, there would be no question that he had the right to be there.

 

He’d never expected to marry. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t asked her yet, or maybe he just hadn’t thought about it until this moment. It hadn’t seemed important.

 

“Ah, Mr. Giles. Of course.” The doctor smiled at him. “It is nice to meet you.”

 

“And you.” He forced a smile. “What can you tell us, doctor?”

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn wandered down one of the halls of the hospital, trying to figure out where she was in relation to where Joyce had been. Buffy had given her change for a soda, but she’d had to go down a couple of floors in order to find a vending machine. And _then_ Dawn had become turned around when she ran into a restricted area.

 

Dawn credited Buffy’s worry over Joyce with her willingness to let her go off on her own. She had been too grateful for a moment where she didn’t feel as though she was being watched to question it.

 

“I swear, it’s like the hallways are moving,” she muttered sullenly, wishing that she was at home, with Joyce, getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner. “It’s not fair.”

 

“Oh, so pretty!”

 

The exclamation startled Dawn out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see an older man coming towards her, hand outstretched. “Uh, what?”

 

“So pretty! So green!”

 

She backed away rapidly, trying to avoid his grasping fingers, and finding the entire situation all too creepy.

 

“Dawn!” Spike came from behind her, and moved between her and the old man. “What were you doing?”

 

“I went for a soda!” she protested, trying to keep one eye on the man behind Spike. “And then I got turned around.”

 

“Come on.” He took her arm in a firm grip and led her down the hallway rapidly, away from the old man. “Who was that?”

 

“I don’t know. He just started…” She trailed off, uncertain of how to describe his odd behavior.

 

Spike shook his head. “Well, never mind, then. All’s well that ends well, yeah?”

 

“How’s Joyce?”

 

“They’re going to keep her overnight, but they think she’ll be fine.”

 

Something in his tone told Dawn that there was a little more to it than that. “What else?”

 

“They’re talking about bed rest.” That was all he would say, though. Spike stayed stubbornly silent until they met up with Buffy in the waiting room on the maternity floor.

 

“What’s going on, Buffy?” Dawn demanded. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing is wrong. They just want to be sure that Mom and the baby are okay.” She smiled. “What do you want for dinner tonight?”

 

Dawn realized that the basket of groceries for Thanksgiving was still at the store. “What about Thanksgiving?”

 

“We’ll figure something out.”

 

Buffy was being just as vague as Spike, and it was driving her crazy. “But—”

 

“She’s fine,” Buffy interrupted her. “But Giles is going to stay here, and so you’re going to stay with us. We’ll get something to eat tonight, and we’ll worry about Thanksgiving later.”

 

“Will we still have it?” Dawn had no idea why it was so important to her that they have the traditional turkey dinner, but it was. She needed to be sure that everything was going to be okay, and Thanksgiving dinner was part of that.

 

She saw the look that Spike and Buffy exchanged, and Spike said, “Of course we will, pint-size. I’ll bet Tara will help, and the others, too.”

 

Dawn didn’t reply to that, grateful that they would at least try. She needed to try being normal, even if she wasn’t very good at it.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley awkwardly climbed into Spike’s car, putting his crutches in the backseat. “Thanks for doing this, Spike.”

 

“How long are you going to be incapacitated?”

 

“Four to six weeks, then the cast comes off,” Wesley replied glumly. “Far too long, if you ask me.”

 

“And since it’s the right foot, you can’t even drive.”

 

“It’s not funny.”

 

“I’m not laughing.”

 

“I can tell when you’re amused.” Wesley sighed. “Laugh it up, and if you’d like to borrow the bike, feel free. I won’t be riding it.”

 

Spike’s expression turned sympathetic. “At least it wasn’t worse.”

 

“Worse? How could it be worse?”

 

“Well, you could have buggered up your knee, and then it would be months, instead of weeks.” He offered a conciliatory smile. “Couldn’t do without you that long, mate.”

 

“Thanks.” Wesley leaned back in the seat. “I stumbled across something the other day that I think may give us a lead on finding Glory.”

 

“Anything would help at this point. We don’t have the first idea where to begin.”

 

“As you know,” Wesley began, “the prophecy speaks of choices.”

 

“Yeah, choices I’m going to have to make.” Spike sounded disgruntled. “Not like it could give me a clue as to what they might be.”

 

“I think it might,” Wesley corrected him. “All the choices seem to be tied to life and death. You save someone, or you don’t. You kill someone, or you don’t.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, from some of the references I’ve seen, it is my guess that Glory is tied to a human body.”

 

Spike blinked, and Wesley could see him processing that information. “You’re saying that Glory _is_ human.”

 

“No, that she’s tied to a human body—and before you ask, I don’t know what the difference is. I just know there is one.”

 

“Then my choice may be to kill an innocent person, or to let Dawn die.”

 

“Or kill one of us, or let someone die.”

 

“That’s no choice at all.”

 

“But if it’s Glory inside someone, wouldn’t that make it easier?”

 

“But is the body-sharing willing, or not?” Spike objected. “There are always questions, Wes.” They were parked on campus, as close to Willow’s dorm as Spike could get. “You sure you don’t want to call her to meet you?”

 

“I’ll be fine. You’re sure you don’t mind coming back?”

 

“Give me a call. Buffy and I are going to be watching Dawn tonight.”

 

“How is Joyce?”

 

“They’re putting her on bed rest,” Spike replied. “They want her to try carrying for at least another month, and they’ll induce then if they need to.”

 

“Prognosis?”

 

“Right now, it’s good.” Spike’s serious expression indicated his level of concern. “The doctors think they’ll both be fine.”

 

Wesley smiled. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, it’s good.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Thanks for doing this, Xander.” Buffy kept her voice down. “Spike and I need to patrol, but I don’t want to leave Dawn alone, and I wanted to give Mom and Giles some time together.”

 

“Hey, no problem, Buff. I’m happy to help.” He spoke only the truth. Once again, he’d been feeling a little left out, and not even the thought of babysitting could dampen his spirits. “Anything I can do for your mom?”

 

“If you know how to cook Thanksgiving dinner, that would be good.”

 

“I know how to buy rolls and cranberry sauce,” he offered.

 

Buffy smiled. “I’ll take it. I think between all of us we can manage it. I’d skip the whole thing, but Dawn really wants to have the traditional feast.”

 

“Poor kid,” Xander muttered. “It’s probably good to keep things as normal as possible for her.”

 

“That’s what we thought, too.” She gave him a friendly pat on the arm. “We’ll see you in a few hours, Xan. Thanks again.”

 

She left with Spike a few moments later, and he watched them go. Buffy leaned in close to the vampire, and he put an arm around her shoulders for a quick embrace. They fit together in a way that he envied. Xander knew that his relationship with Anya was solid; he loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone, but sometimes he wondered if they really _fit_.

 

But maybe that’s not what they were about. Sometimes he wondered if he and Anya were more about reconciling their differences than celebrating their similarities.

 

“So, what do you want to do tonight, Dawnie?” he asked. “We rented a couple of movies.”

 

She shrugged. “I don’t care.”

 

“We could play a game,” Anya suggested, sounding strangely perky.

 

Xander had resorted to bribery to get her to agree to come with him, and he knew the two things that would convince Anya to do just about anything—sex and money.

 

Although her bluntness sometimes embarrassed him, Xander had to admit that it was refreshing to have a girlfriend who was so uncomplicated.

 

“What kind of game?” Dawn asked suspiciously.

 

Anya smiled. “We brought _Life_ , where you earn money by going around the board. I like this game.”

 

“I’ll bet,” Dawn muttered.

 

“Okay, what do you want on your pizza, Dawn?” Xander asked, heading off trouble between the two of them. He knew that Anya didn’t have much experience with children, and so she usually came across as patronizing.

 

His Uncle Rory had been like that; he’d found it frustrating.

 

“Anchovies?” she asked hopefully.

 

Xander hid a grimace. He hated anchovies. “Tell you what, we’ll get a small with anchovies for you. Anya? Hawaiian?”

 

“Sure.” She was cheerfully going about setting up the game, and Xander knew it was only a matter of time before she tried convincing him to use real money, rather than the fake bills that came with the game.

 

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	19. Chapter 19

**“Like the ghost of a dear friend dead/Is Time long past./A tone which is now forever fled,/A hope which is now forever past,/A love so sweet it could not last,/Was Time long past./ There were sweet dreams in the night/Of Time long past:/And, was it sadness or delight,/ Each day a shadow onward cast/Which made us wish it yet might last—/That Time long past./There is regret, almost remorse,/For Time long past./’Tis like a child’s belovèd corse/ A father watches, till at last/Beauty is like remembrance, cast/From Time long past.” ~Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Time Long Past”**

 

“I’m fine, Rupert.”

 

“Forgive me for being concerned.”

 

She sighed, hearing the patience and the humor in his voice and knowing that he was willing to cut her some slack given how bored she was. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”

 

“You’re tired of bed rest.”

 

“And it’s only day four,” Joyce confirmed. “I’m not saying that I won’t follow the doctor’s orders, but I think I just might go crazy.”

 

He stretched out beside her on the bed. “Is there anything I can do?”

 

“I don’t know. Can you take my mind off being stuck here?”

 

“Let’s go downstairs,” Giles suggested. “I have a surprise for you.”

 

She followed him, moving slowly and carefully, not wanting to risk harming the baby. When she reached the main floor, Joyce stopped cold. “What is this?”

 

“This is for you.” Giles held out a hand. “I wanted a chance to pamper you, but Buffy and Dawn helped me set it up.”

 

“Where is Dawn?”

 

“Staying with Spike and Buffy. It’s just us tonight, and we can do whatever you like.”

 

Joyce looked around at the candles that were lit and placed around the living room, the fire that was crackling in the fireplace, and the tray that was set out in front of it. From where she stood, she could see the sparkling grape juice chilling in the bucket, sliced fruits, cheese, meats, and bread.

 

“This is perfect.” Joyce blinked back tears. “I can’t believe it.”

 

“Come and sit.”

 

He tugged her over to the fireplace and helped her sit. “What’s going on, Rupert?” Joyce asked.

 

“Nothing is going on,” he protested.

 

Joyce wasn’t buying it for a moment. “You wouldn’t have done this if you didn’t have something planned.”

 

He looked away. “Am I that transparent?”

 

“Only to me.” She patted his cheek. “We’ve known each other for long enough, and well enough, that it can’t be completely surprising.”

 

“How long have we known each other?” he asked.

 

Joyce frowned. “Quite some time. Since Buffy’s sophomore year in high school, I suppose, so nearly four years.”

 

“And how long have we been together?”

 

“Two years.” Joyce began to suspect where this was going. “Are you trying to ask me to marry you?”

 

Giles cleared his throat. “I know that we haven’t talked about marriage, but…” He trailed off, and she could see how nervous he was.

 

“You want to get married?”

 

“I—I do.” He didn’t sound terribly sure. “I think it would make things easier for both of us.”

 

Joyce knew where this was going, but it wasn’t the most romantic proposal she’d ever heard; then again, Hank’s proposal had been by the book, and look how that had ended. She still couldn’t resist teasing him a bit.

 

“So, you only want to get married because it would make things easier?”

 

“No! Of course not. I just—” Giles pulled his glasses off. “If you hadn’t told the doctor to allow me in the room the other day, I don’t know that I would have been able to come in.”

 

“But I did tell him.”

 

“And what if something were to happen to one of us? God forbid, but…”

 

“But it could, and if we were married, things would be easier legally speaking.”

 

He nodded. “Yes.”

 

“Is that the only reason?”

 

“I love you.” He didn’t say the words very often, which made every occasion that he did all the more precious. “I can’t imagine spending my life without you.”

 

She smiled. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

 

His eyes narrowed. “Now you’re teasing.”

 

“I couldn’t resist.”

 

“I never thought of getting married, and yet, here we are.” Giles fumbled in his pocket and fished out a ring. “It was my grandmother’s. She was a strong woman; you remind me of her.”

 

Joyce blinked back tears as she slid the ring on her finger. “Thank you.”

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

“It was always going to be yes, Rupert.”

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Tara, although she’d been doing her best to give the other woman a wide berth.

 

The problem was that she liked Tara _too_ much, and while they might not be on opposite sides any longer, they weren’t exactly playing for the same team. Quinn had enough on her plate right now without adding a relationship—even if it was only a potential relationship.

 

At least Travers had stopped pestering her for more information. Wesley’s translation had satisfied him, at least for the moment.

 

Quinn browsed the shelves at the magic shop idly. She had stopped in for some basic ingredients, well aware that there were certain things that a Watcher should have to hand at all times.

 

She wasn’t paying much attention to the others in the shop until she heard, “You’re in luck. The Sobekian bloodstone is on sale this week.”

 

Turning slightly, Quinn saw a woman about her age standing at the checkout counter. “Great!” she said brightly. “I love a good sale.”

 

The sixth sense that had contributed to her success at the Academy was going haywire, although she couldn’t put her finger on why. Grabbing one of the items that she needed, Quinn headed for the register, hoping to get a better look at the woman and what she was buying.

 

Quinn approached the woman from behind just as she saw the sales clerk wrap an amulet before putting it in a bag. She knew that the Sobekian bloodstone was bad news; it was only used in the darkest magicks, although you couldn’t do much harm without certain other items.

 

In general, unless the person wielding the spell was incredibly powerful, or had something else that was key to the spell, the bloodstone was more of a nuisance than a real threat.

 

The clerk finished ringing up the sale, the woman took her bag and swept by Quinn without so much as glancing in her direction. That glance was enough to jog her memory, and she realized that she’d just watched Glory purchasing something that she likely shouldn’t have.

 

“I’ll be with you in a minute.”

 

Quinn nodded and placed her purchases on the counter, trying to catch a glimpse of the sales receipt the other woman was filling out. “So, uh, have you worked here long?” she asked.

 

The other woman glanced up from the form, and Quinn caught a glimpse of the other item purchased on the inventory log: Khul’s amulet.

 

“No, not long. I just fill in for the owner on occasion. Why?”

 

Quinn shrugged. “No reason. I just didn’t think I’d seen you in here before.”

 

The woman’s smile grew a bit. “Great accent. Are you from the London area?”

 

“Plymouth, actually. It’s south and west of London. Do you know it?”

 

“I spent a semester at Oxford,” she explained. “I never did get the hang of recognizing accents.”

 

Quinn continued to make small talk about England, shading the truth when she needed to and leaving the store as soon as she could. While she still had no idea why the combination of those two items bothered her so much, Quinn knew that she’d be doing some research.

 

The only problem was that she didn’t have access to the research materials she needed—which meant that there was only one place to go.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara opened the door of the dorm room and was surprised to see Quinn on the other side. “Hi.”

 

“Sorry to bother you,” Quinn said in a rush. “But I think there may be a problem.”

 

“What kind of problem?” Tara stepped aside in a silent invitation.

 

Quinn shoved her hands in her pockets. “I was just in the magic shop, and I saw Glory buying a Sobekian bloodstone and Khul’s amulet. I know it’s not good, but I can’t remember why. Besides, you know, it being Glory.”

 

“Have a seat.” Tara waved her to the bed, pausing to remember which books would offer the answers they were looking for. “Try this one for the bloodstone.”

 

She took a second tome and began looking for references to the amulet. The room fell silent, other than the quiet rustle of pages. “How have you been?” Tara finally asked.

 

Quinn kept her eyes on the book resting on her lap. “Fine, and you?”

 

“Good.”

 

Tara wasn’t exactly sure what was going on between them, but she suspected that Quinn’s feelings mirrored her own. Now was not a good time to start a relationship.

 

When is a good time? The small voice in the back of her head made sense, as it usually did.

 

“Here.” Quinn’s voice held a note of relief, as though she was grateful to keep the conversation to business only. “The Sobekites were an ancient Egyptian cult that worshipped a snake-like demon.”

 

Tara finally found the entry she had been looking for. “And the amulet is a transmogrification conduit.”

 

Quinn was already shaking her head. “Maybe this is stupid. You’d have to have a lot of power to be able to pull off a spell that big, and Glory is physically strong, but—”

 

“Might have enough power to do just that,” Tara said grimly. “Hold on.”

 

She picked up the phone and dialed Wesley’s number. When it rang through to voicemail, Tara said, “Wesley, it’s Tara. I think we may have a situation with Glory. I’m calling Spike next, so check with him before going anywhere.”

 

Ignoring Quinn’s questioning look, Tara dialed the next number. “Come on,” she muttered, knowing that she and Quinn had no hope of dealing with whatever Glory was conjuring up, and yet knowing that they would have to try.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Tara had never been so relieved to hear Spike’s curt reply. “We have a situation with Glory, Spike. Where are you?”

 

“Out on patrol.”

 

Tara suspected that a little more had been going on than just patrolling, but she didn’t say anything. She wanted to ask where Dawn was, but if what she suspected was true, Quinn couldn’t know that Dawn was anything more than another innocent who might be caught in the crossfire.

 

“Glory is going to try some very dark magic, probably to conjure a demon to kill you,” Tara said cryptically. “And to do it, she’s going to need a snake.”

 

“What kind of a snake?”

 

“The nastier, the better.”

 

“Are you alone?”

 

“No. Willow’s with Wes.” She didn’t know if he’d work out who she happened to be with, but even if he didn’t, he’d know she wasn’t with one of those in the know.

 

“Got it. Dawn’s with Xander and Anya. I need you to head over there. Bring the company if it’s Quinn. All she has to know is that Buffy’s worried about Glory attacking her sister.”

 

“That makes sense.” And it did, particularly since Quinn had a sister of her own; she would understand Buffy sending reinforcements to protect her. “We’re on our way.”

 

She hung up, hoping that they would be enough. “Do you mind?”

 

“Where are we going?” Quinn was already on her feet, looking just a little bit excited, and Tara realized that she would have made a really good Slayer. Like Buffy and Spike, she lived for a good fight.

 

“Xander’s apartment. Buffy’s sister is staying with them tonight, and she’s worried Glory will go there.”

 

“Wait, a sister?” Quinn frowned. “I don’t remember hearing anything about a sister.

 

Tara took a deep breath, hating that she had to lie, and reminding herself that this was just one more reason her attraction to the other woman would have to go unspoken. She wouldn’t lie to someone she was with. “It’s a long story,” she replied. “I’ll explain on the way over.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy hadn’t been able to stop worrying all the way to the Sunnydale Zoo. She hadn’t been there since the debacle with the hyenas her sophomore year of high school, and really, she hadn’t planned on going back.

 

“We’ll get there.”

 

“Not fast enough,” she grumbled. “Did Tara say what to look for?”

 

“She said that Glory needed a snake. I thought it was obvious.”

 

“Right, but if we can’t disrupt the spell, I mean. How do we stop her? Or it?”

 

“We kill it, luv.” Spike’s expression was just short of exasperated. “Buffy, we’ve been over this.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Your mum is going to be fine.”

 

As always, Spike saw to the heart of the matter. The truth was that Buffy was worried about everyone and everything—her mom, the baby, Dawn, Glory, the Council, the prophecy…

 

Her dream.

 

“It’s just that we don’t even know how to kill her. I’d feel a lot better if we knew that we could chop off her head, or poison her drink, or something.”

 

“I don’t know of many things that can survive with their heads off,” Spike said mildly, “so that seems like a good place to start.”

 

There was a pause as they continued half-walking, half-jogging towards the zoo. Spike’s car had been too far away to do any good. It had been faster to head straight to there, rather than picking up his car and driving there.

 

“Wes told me something the other day. He said he thought Glory was tied to a human body somehow.”

 

“That makes no sense,” Buffy said flatly.

 

Spike inclined his head in a way equivalent to a shrug. “Didn’t say it did, but he thought we could kill the human.”

 

Buffy pondered that idea for a moment, and realized that she didn’t much care for it. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

 

“None of this does.” She could just make out his blue eyes in the light from an overhead streetlamp. “Just ask Dawn.”

 

“Don’t I know it.” They were approaching the zoo at a fast clip now, and Buffy racked her brain, trying to remember where the snakes were.

 

She didn’t like snakes—never had, especially not after the last snake-like demon she’d killed.

 

“Do you know where they are?” Spike asked, as though reading her mind.

 

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t remember.”

 

He grimaced. “Right. I’d suggest splitting up, but I don’t think that’s a good idea under the circumstances.”

 

“You’re right.” They would just have to hope they found Glory in time.

 

~~~~~

 

Xander was letting Anya win. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself, given how badly he was losing at _Monopoly_. Granted, he’d essentially promised Anya that if she won, he’d buy her something sparkly, since she’d agreed to babysit Dawn again.

 

He suspected that Buffy and Spike were using their time together to do a little more than just patrol, but he didn’t blame them.

 

The knocking on the door had the sound of trouble behind it, and Xander warned Anya and Dawn to stay put. “Coming!” he called, as the knocking continued, even louder this time.

 

A quick glance through the peephole reassured him that it was just Tara and the Watcher-girl. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Spike asked us to come over. He thought that Glory might be sending trouble your way.” Tara’s surreptitious glance at Dawn, then Quinn, warned him that he shouldn’t push for more information, at least not now.

 

“Okay.” Xander thought quickly. “You guys want something to drink?”

 

“Sure.” Quinn gave him a hopeful smile. “A glass of water wouldn’t go amiss, and if you’ve got weapons, I’d like to see them.”

 

Xander could offer water, but he wasn’t sure that he’d have what she needed for weapons.

 

He just hoped they wouldn’t need them.


	20. Chapter 20

**“Love only sings when Love is young,/When Love is young and still at play,/How shall we count the sweet songs sung/When Love and Joy kept holiday?/But now Love has to earn his bread/By lifelong stress and toil of tears,/He finds his nest of song-birds dead/That sang so sweet in other years./For Love’s a man now, strong and brave,/To fight for you, for you to live,/And Love, that once such bright songs gave,/Has better things than songs to give;/He gives you now a lifelong faith,/A hand to help in joy or pain,/And he will sing no more, till Death/Shall come to make him young again!” ~E. Nesbit, “Love and Life”**

 

Spike crouched at the entrance to the reptile house. They had found it by following some sort of short demon in a robe, figuring that it was unlikely for unidentified demons to be at the zoo without somehow being connected to Glory.

 

Buffy was trying to shift her weight silently, and he knew she was getting cramped from staying in one place for too long. “Ready?”

 

She nodded. “What do you hear?”

 

“Nothing much. I think she’s yelling at someone.”

 

“We’d better get in there before we have bigger problems than Glory.”

 

“There are bigger problems?”

 

“Point.”

 

With that, they both headed inside the exhibit. The lock on the door had been broken when they’d arrived, so it was no trouble to get inside.

 

Sounds became clearer once they’d passed the heavy doors. Glory could be heard berating her minions. “This had better work. I want my key, like, yesterday!”

 

“Of course, your greatness.” The fawning voice of one of the demons caused Spike to raise his eyebrows. “It will be sure to work. The snake will track your key, and tell you where it is.”

 

That made sense. Now they knew _why_ Glory wanted a snake demon, although that still left the problem of how they were going to prevent the Hellgod from raising the creature. “Me first,” Buffy said.

 

“Luv…”

 

“It’s my turn.”

 

“Fine.”

 

Buffy grinned at him. “The demons are all yours, sweetie.”

 

“I know you’re there.” Glory whirled to face their hiding spot. “Come out so I can kill you. Slowly.”

 

“Whatever, bitch-face,” Buffy replied insolently, stepping out of her hiding spot. “You’re not going to manage that spell.”

 

“Why is that?” Glory asked. “I am the great Glorificus! I can _do_ whatever the hell I want.”

 

“You’re not going to be able to do the spell, because we’re going to stop you.” Buffy didn’t give her the chance to fire back after that comment. Her right foot connected with Glory’s temple, sending her back a step, but the hobbit-like demons were on top of her, immediately, protecting their mistress.

 

“Spike! The spell!”

 

Torn between helping Buffy and preventing the demon attempting the spell from completing it, Spike hesitated. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, and the expression on her face said what she couldn’t say out loud—that she wasn’t the one at risk from the spell, that Dawn was the important one.

 

“Bugger.” Spike leapt for the demon, knocking over the urn with the snake and magic implements, knowing that was usually the best way to interrupt a spell. The urn cracked, and the snake slithered out, rising up and hissing at him.

 

He made a lightning-fast grab for the cobra, seizing it just behind the hood and snapping its neck with a flick of his wrist.

 

Glory let out a scream of frustration, ceasing her attack on Buffy to come after him. “Why do you always have to ruin _everything_?”

 

“Because you’re such a pain in the ass,” Spike snapped back. “And you’re ugly.” He gave her a toothy grin. “And because I enjoy it.”

 

She flew at him in a rage, and it was all Spike could do to hold her off. Even with the added protection of the ring, he was greatly outmatched.

 

He went through the glass on another display and came face to face with a boa constrictor. Glory advanced on him, then stopped abruptly, letting out another screech and putting her hands on her head. “Ow.”

 

She turned to look at Buffy, and Spike scrambled out of the display, bowling Glory over with his shoulder. The little hobbit demons were scuttling around, trying to attend to the Hellgod’s needs, whatever they might be. Spike could honestly say that he didn’t care, but he definitely wanted to get out of there.

 

They were outmanned, and they still had no way of killing Glory. “Let’s go, Buffy.”

 

She followed him out. “What just happened in there, Spike? Can we use it?”

 

“When we figure out how, yeah. I want to have some idea of how to kill her, though.”

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn suspected that there was more going on that met the eye. They had been sent to provide backup for Xander and Anya, to ensure Dawn’s safety.

 

She understood the need to protect family, but she thought it a little odd that Buffy was worried about her sister at the moment. Then again, she knew what it was like to have secrets, and maybe it had something to do with the fact that Buffy had just recently discovered that she had a sister.

 

When Spike and Buffy arrived at Xander’s apartment, looking rather the worse for wear, Quinn knew that something big was going on. “How did it go?” Tara asked anxiously. Dawn had fallen asleep on the couch, so they were all huddled around the front door, trying to keep their voices down.

 

“We didn’t have to deal with a demon, so that’s something,” Buffy said wearily. “Glory is going to be a huge problem, though.”

 

“What exactly is Glory?” Quinn asked.

 

“She’s a Hellgod.” Buffy’s flat voice indicated that she didn’t want to go into the details, and while Quinn understood her reticence, she was also frustrated by it.

 

“I know Glory is a Hellgod, but I don’t know what that means.” Taking a deep breath, she decided to face the Slayer’s suspicion head-on; it was how she’d always faced things. “Look, I know you have every reason not to trust me, and I get it, but I’m not going to tell Travers anything you don’t want him to know. I want to help.”

 

“And you have helped,” Spike assured her. “If we hadn’t arrived when we did tonight, I doubt things would have turned out quite so rosy, but the fact is that you work for the Council.”

 

Quinn had to bite her tongue. She wanted to tell him that she’d had no choice, that she would have preferred to be in the Alps, tracking down problematic yetis, or in the wilds of Transylvania looking for unruly werewolves. She would have liked doing anything that didn’t involve spying; that just wasn’t her strong suit.

 

Buffy met her eyes, and after a moment, her expression softened. “This isn’t the time or the place to discuss this, but if you really want to help, why don’t you come by Spike’s place tomorrow evening? We could use the extra muscle out on patrol.”

 

Quinn knew when she was being thrown a bone, but she would take it at the moment.

 

~~~~~

 

Orlando was beginning to think that he was going to have to take drastic action in order to reveal the identity of the Key. The Council seemed to think that it was a person, which meant that they had to narrow it down from among the Slayer and Guardian’s friends and family.

 

He’d given some thought to finding the weakest link among them, but the Knights of Byzantium tried not to kill innocents. And if the person they chose to question didn’t know who the Key was, there would be no choice but to kill them.

 

There was time yet, he thought, before drastic measures must be taken, and a decision like that ought to be made by the General, not him.

 

He turned from his post in front of the Guardian’s house. He and the Slayer had arrived an hour before, and now all was quiet. Orlando didn’t think that he’d get any more information, but he did have time to catch a few hours of sleep.

 

Tomorrow was soon enough to resume his search.

 

~~~~~

 

“You wanted to see me?” Buffy asked, sitting down on the bed next to her mother.

 

Joyce wasn’t exactly nervous. She didn’t have any reason to believe that Buffy would react poorly to their announcement, but there was still some anxiety there. “Rupert and I wanted to talk to you first.”

 

“Me? What—” Buffy stopped, catching sight of the ring on her mother’s hand. “Giles asked you to marry him.”

 

“And I said yes. You don’t mind, do you?” she asked anxiously.

 

Buffy immediately shook her head. “No, not at all. I thought I might, but… I’ve been expecting it actually. I mean, once you got pregnant, I figured it was only a matter of time.” She winced. “Sorry.”

 

“No, I think that’s probably true.” Joyce smiled. “I’m glad. I know that in the past when I’ve dated other men you haven’t been quite as accepting.”

 

“Ted was a robot,” Buffy replied. “I knew there was something really wrong with that guy.”

 

Joyce decided that it would be pointless to argue. She wasn’t so sure that Buffy had known there was something wrong—other than that Ted was dating her—but that was water under the bridge.

 

“Have you set a date?” Buffy asked, neatly changing the subject.

 

“Right after the baby is born, most likely,” Joyce said. “We’d do it before, but it’s just not feasible.”

 

“No big wedding?”

 

“I don’t need one. We’re married in all the ways that count. At this point, it’s more a formality than anything else.”

 

Buffy gave her a tight hug. “I’m really happy for you, Mom. Really.”

 

Joyce returned her embrace. “You’ll tell the others?”

 

“We’ll have a party after the baby is born.” Buffy pulled back to smile at her mother. “I guess there’s a lot to celebrate.”

 

Joyce touched her cheek and said a little prayer, hoping that their joy would be untouched by sorrow.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy looked out the window, wondering when Quinn would show up. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the other woman. There _was_ a shared bond—they both had family members that they were trying to protect—but Quinn worked for the Council. Maybe it was a good idea to have someone on the inside, but Buffy didn’t know that she would feel comfortable with the other woman until she had repudiated the Council entirely.

 

“You’re worried.”

 

“Yeah.” She turned from the window to look at Spike. “Aren’t you?”

 

“We decided to let her in,” Spike pointed out. “And she’s helped twice now. I think that earns her some slack.”

 

“Maybe.” Buffy left the window to sit next to him on the couch. Spike was reading a book, something he seldom had time to do these days. “But if she knows about Glory, and she knows about the Key, how long until she figures out that you know where it is?”

 

“I’ve thought about that,” Spike admitted. “I think we cross that bridge when we come to it.”

 

“And when she tells the Council that the geas isn’t in place?”

 

“We don’t know that she will.”

 

“We don’t know that she won’t, and I want to be prepared for the worst.”

 

Spike put his book aside, pulling her close. “We knew the Council was going to figure out that their little spell is no longer in place eventually, luv. It was only a matter of time. If we do this right, we might be able to manipulate the situation to our own ends.”

 

“How?”

 

“We can still control what the Council finds out about the spell’s removal. If they think that we’re more powerful than we are, it’s to our benefit.”

 

“I guess.” Buffy still wasn’t convinced. “Tara and Willow did the locator spell, didn’t they?”

 

“Yeah, we’ll be able to find Quinn, wherever she might be. Tara said she was meeting with her again to give her ring back.”

 

Buffy smiled wistfully. “Tara really likes her, I think.”

 

“I think you’re right.”

 

She was suddenly reminded of when Angelus had been unleashed. Buffy had turned a cold shoulder to Jenny Calendar for her role in the situation, and Giles had taken her lead. They had reconciled, but too late to enjoy it.

 

It was something she would always regret.

 

“What are you thinking of?”

 

Spike’s voice interrupted the memories, and she shook her head to clear it. “There was a teacher at the school that Giles liked, before you came to Sunnydale. She was part of the tribe that cursed Angel, and I couldn’t forgive her for betraying our trust and not telling us.”

 

“You blamed her for Angel losing his soul.”

 

“I blamed myself, but yeah. I didn’t want to trust her again, and I didn’t want Giles to trust her.”

 

“And she died before they got a chance to fully reconcile.” Spike’s blue eyes were wise. “Rupert told me when he was in his cups one night. If it’s any consolation, he doesn’t hold it against you.”

 

Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder. “What if I’m doing the same thing now?”

 

“Think it’s a little early to say that Tara’s in love, Buffy.” Spike stroked her hair, and she relaxed into his touch. For a moment, she could forget all her worries.

 

It was the best part of their relationship—his ability to help her forget, if only for a moment, that she was the Slayer with the world on her shoulders.

 

“But what if by not trusting Quinn I make things worse?”

 

“We do the best we can,” Spike replied. “We can’t do more.”

 

The doorbell rang, and Buffy rose from the couch to answer the door. “Come in.”

 

Quinn walked in, appearing ill at ease. “Thanks.” She looked around. “Nice place.”

 

“We like it.” She led the way into the living room and waved Quinn to a seat on the couch. “There’s something I want to know before we get into the situation with Glory,” Buffy said.

 

Quinn nodded. “All right.”

 

“What were you supposed to tell the Council, exactly?”

 

“Travers wasn’t clear on that,” Quinn admitted. “He said something about a prophecy, and he was worried that Spike would bollocks it all up.” Her expression was apologetic. “He said we couldn’t trust a vampire to make the right decision.”

 

“And what do you think?”

 

Quinn shrugged. “I’m beginning to think that it wouldn’t matter whether it’s a human or a vampire that the prophecy might be talking about. Travers is a control freak, and he wants to be sure that the outcome is in his favor.”

 

“Have you seen the prophecy?” Spike asked.

 

“Sure, when I faxed Wesley’s copy to the Council.”

 

“Then you know what all the fuss is about.”

 

“No, I don’t, to be honest.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Even though I may destroy the world.”

 

Quinn frowned. “That’s not what the prophecy says. It says that you’ll have to make a decision. You have to live in the world, too. What reason would you have to let the world go to hell?”

 

Buffy looked at Spike. “Can she be in charge of the Council? Because her logic actually resembles earth logic.”

 

Spike grinned. “You’re alright, O’Mara.”

 

“Thanks.” She looked from one to the other. “Look, Travers said something to me that I thought was a little suspect. He said that power like that shouldn’t be left in the hands of a vampire. I think he wants it for himself.”

 

“Good guess,” Spike said. “What do you know about putting a geas on someone?”

 

Buffy had known what he was going to say before the words left his mouth, and she understood it. Spike went with his instincts, and his instincts were telling him to trust this girl.

 

Right now, Buffy was willing to go along with his instincts.

 

“A geas?” Quinn frowned. “What the bloody hell do you want with one of those?” Buffy could feel her tension ratchet up several notches. “I can’t be involved in something like that. It’s dark magic, and it’s taking someone’s free will.”

 

“I was hoping you would say that,” Spike said quietly.

 

Quinn’s eyes went huge. “The Council—fuck.” She rose from her seat and began pacing. “Travers put a geas on you. That’s why he wanted me to watch you. I was…sodding, buggering—that bastard!”

 

Buffy was a little surprised at the strength of Quinn’s reaction. “Are you okay?”

 

“That’s what Dracula did to me, and Travers is using the enemy’s tricks on people who are supposed to be on our side.”

 

Buffy realized what had caused the other woman to become so angry. Dracula had really done a number on her, and she was still feeling the effects. Under the circumstances, it could only help them.

 

“Fuck him,” Quinn said in a low voice. “He tried to blackmail me by using my little sister—his Slayer. Well, fuck him. He can do his own sodding dirty work.”

 

“If it’s all the same to you, we’d rather you continue to pretend to work for him at least,” Buffy said. “Better a spy we know than one we don’t.”

 

Quinn visibly calmed herself. “You’re right. I don’t think he can yank my sister. It would go against tradition, and there would be a huge outcry—but he wouldn’t be above making sure I didn’t leave Sunnydale alive, and there would be more agents behind me.” She sat down again. “He wants the Key from the prophecy, doesn’t he?”

 

“He does,” Spike confirmed.

 

Quinn met his eyes, and Buffy saw her grim expression. “I don’t want to know what or who it is,” she said quietly. “If I don’t know, then I don’t have to lie.”

 

Buffy’s respect for her rose even more with that.

 

~~~~~

 

“Just sit.”

 

“We’ve got it taken care of.”

 

Wesley knew when he was beaten. Neither Willow nor Tara was going to let him help, and he went to join Joyce in the living room, propping his crutches against the wall next to his chair.

 

“You got benched too?”

 

“Willow and Tara’s orders,” he admitted. “Congratulations, by the way. How are you?”

 

“Thank you, and I’m bored,” she admitted. “How is your ankle?”

 

“My foot itches. I think it’s been itching for weeks now.” He winced. “I realize that I shouldn’t be complaining. It could be much worse.”

 

“It could always be worse,” Joyce agreed. “But that doesn’t mean that it’s not bad enough.”

 

“I suppose that’s true.”

 

Tara stuck her head in. “I think we’re ready if you guys want to come to the table.”

 

Wesley rose from his seat clumsily, reaching for his crutches. “Joyce? Do you need any help?”

 

She winced as she rose, one hand on her back. “No, I’ll be fine. My back is just a little sore.” Her smile was rueful. “This was a lot easier twenty years ago.”

 

“I’m sure it was,” Wesley agreed, thinking of how quickly he’d recovered from scrapes and falls just ten years before. It was getting a little harder, although he thought that being with Willow kept him young.

 

He moved slightly ahead of Joyce, and glanced back over his shoulder. Her expression was pained, and he frowned. “Joyce? Are you sure—”

 

“I’ll be fine, Wesley.”

 

He knew better than to press, but he couldn’t help but worry. He’d grown quite fond of Joyce, and the thought of something happening—

 

Well, it didn’t bear thinking about.


	21. Chapter 21

**“Oh, my beloved, have you thought of this:/How in the years to come unscrupulous Time,/More cruel than Death, will tear you from my kiss,/And make you old, and leave me in my prime?/How you and I, who scale together yet/A little while the sweet, immortal height/No pilgrim may remember or forget,/As sure as the world turns, some granite night/Shall lie awake and know the gracious flame/Gone out forever on the mutual stone;/And call to mind that on the day you came/I was a child, and you a hero grown?—/And the night pass, and the strange morning break/Upon our anguish for each other’s sake!” ~Edna St. Vincent Millay, “Oh, My Beloved, Have You Thought of This?”**

 

Joyce made it through dinner by sheer force of will, figuring that the contractions were just a false alarm. When she felt the unmistakable sensation of her water breaking, however, she knew that the time had come.

 

“Rupert,” she said quietly. “I need you to go upstairs and get my bag.”

 

Silence fell over the table as everyone stared at her. “I beg your pardon?” Giles asked.

 

“I’m going to need a ride to the hospital.” Joyce looked at him. “Go get my bag? Please?”

 

He blinked. “Of—of course. I’ll just…” Giles stood quickly and would have knocked over his chair if Spike hadn’t caught it.

 

“Go,” Spike said, giving him a nudge. “I’ll drive.”

 

“Isn’t this early?” Buffy asked, sounding frightened.

 

“It’s a little early, but not enough to be dangerous.” Joyce managed a smile. “Don’t worry.”

 

“Let’s get you in the car, pet.” Spike helped her up, and Buffy quickly moved to the other side. Between the two of them, they supported her outside to the car. Spike slid behind the wheel, leaning out the window to talk to Buffy.

 

“We’ll meet you there,” Buffy said. “Xander can drive.”

 

“What about Dawn?”

 

“We’ll keep her away from the crazies. She should be safe enough with us.”

 

“Right then.” Spike and Joyce looked over their shoulders as Giles put Joyce’s bag into the backseat and quickly followed.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

“We’ll see you there, luv.” Spike leaned out the window for a quick kiss, then put the car into reverse.

 

Joyce clutched the door as Spike drove to the hospital, focusing on her breathing. The contractions were coming closer together now; it seemed as though her son was anxious to be born.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy paced the waiting room, wishing that she could be in there with her mom, and yet not wanting to be there at the same time.

 

“Buffy, sit.” Spike grabbed her hand. “Come on, luv. Sit.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You’re making me dizzy.” Spike stood, still holding her hand, and pulled her out of the waiting room. “Let’s grab some coffee.”

 

“What if—”

 

“They’ll come and get us.” She was somehow unsurprised when he led her outside. “I thought you might want some fresh air.”

 

“I’m fine.”  


“You’re worried, which is perfectly understandable.”

 

She hugged herself tightly. “Yeah.”

 

“The doctors are good, Buffy. They’ll bring both of them through.”

 

“I know.” She managed a smile and leaned up against the cool concrete wall next to him, trying to mirror his relaxed position. “Do you—”

 

When she stopped, Spike turned to face her, one long-fingered hand stroking her arm. “Do I what?”

 

“Do you ever wish…” Buffy trailed off, unable to put it into words.

 

He smiled, but there was a certain wistfulness in his eyes. “Yeah, sometimes. There are times I wish I was human, especially now.”

 

Buffy didn’t ask him to clarify; she knew what he meant. His hand moved from her arm to frame her face. “What about you?” he asked. “You could find yourself some nice, human guy, settle down, have babies.”

 

“Two Hellmouths, two Slayers.” Buffy managed a smile. “This is what I am, Spike. Having a kid doesn’t factor into that.”

 

Spike pulled her close, and she clung to him for a moment. “Destiny is a bitch,” he murmured against her hair.

 

She had to laugh at that typical-Spike statement. “Yes, it is.”

 

“I think we’re due another vacation after this,” he said softly. “Where do you want to go this time?”

 

Buffy gave some thought to that, then said, “Could we go back to that demon resort? That was really nice.”

 

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Sure thing, luv.”

 

“Buffy!” Willow hurried out the automatic doors, looking around the front of the building.

 

“We’re here, Will.” Buffy half-jogged to meet her friend. “Is something wrong?”

 

Willow grinned. “Nope. He’s a little on the small side, but you’ve got a new little brother.”

 

~~~~~

 

Giles held his son, and thought his heart might crack from the weight of the joy that he felt. The infant was so tiny, so fragile, and yet already he held Giles’ entire world.

 

“Rupert?”

 

He turned awkwardly, careful not to disturb the baby, who appeared perfectly content to be in his arms for the moment. “He’s perfect.”

 

“He is.” Joyce held out her arms, and Giles reluctantly handed the baby over. “They’ll want to take him to the nursery soon.”

 

“The nursery?”

 

“Just until we’re ready to go home.” Joyce touched the baby’s ruddy cheek with one finger, then adjusted the tiny blue stocking cap. “Did the others know where Buffy and Spike were?”

 

Giles was prevented from answering by a brief knock on the door, and Buffy stuck her head inside. “Is everyone decent?”

 

“Of course. Come in, sweetheart.”

 

Buffy slipped inside, followed closely by Spike, who appeared strangely uncomfortable. “Oh!” She moved over to Joyce’s side. “He’s so cute!”

 

“He really is, isn’t he?” Joyce replied with pardonable smugness. “He’s only five and a half pounds, but the doctor said that his lungs are well developed, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“Have you two decided on a name yet?” Spike asked, hands shoved in his pockets as though he was afraid he’d break something—or that Joyce would ask him to hold the baby.

 

Giles glanced at Joyce, who smiled. “We did,” he said. “Meet Thomas Maxwell.”

 

“Big name for such a little mite,” Spike said, edging a little closer to the bed.

 

“My grandmother was Thomasina,” Giles explained.

 

Buffy glanced away from her little brother. “The one who was the Watcher?”

 

“That’s correct.” He smiled. “Although I rather doubt that he’ll be following in his great-grandmother’s footsteps.”

 

In fact, Giles rather hoped that his son would be a green grocer or a fighter pilot, or anything else he damn well pleased—just as long as he was happy.

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn’s stomach sank as she saw Travers’ number come up on her caller I.D., and she knew she didn’t have any choice but to take the call. “O’Mara.”

 

“I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with the Slayer and her friends.”

 

“You wanted information, I found a way to get it.” Quinn had prepared herself for this possibility, and had decided to tell the truth—or part of it—rather than lying. She had no idea how he had found out, but she had to convince him that she was doing this for the Council. “They don’t know who I’m working for.”

 

“And yet I haven’t received any updates from you.”

 

“I didn’t have anything of note to report,” she responded. “Unless you want to know that Buffy’s family is expanding.”

 

“Her family?” Travers’ voice sharpened, and Quinn realized that she might have said too much without meaning to. “What do you mean?”

 

“Her mom just had a new baby. You knew that Rupert Giles was having a kid, right?”

 

“I didn’t. And you’ve noticed nothing untoward there?”

 

“Well, Joyce was definitely pregnant,” Quinn replied. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“I see.”

 

Quinn decided that it was time to change the subject. “You’ve never told me what kind of information you want. Now that I’m in a position to ask questions, it might be time to fill me in.”

 

“We seek the Key,” Travers responded. “You know that.”

 

“So what?” Quinn said. “Buffy might be wearing it around her neck for all I know. And what am I supposed to do if I find the key? Drop it in the mail?”

 

“The Key is a person, Ms. O’Mara.” Travers’ disapproving tone made it clear that he didn’t appreciate her sarcasm. “And there is another group in Sunnydale looking for the key. Continue doing what it is you’re doing, and let me know if anyone new appears in the Slayer’s life.” There was a pause. “There isn’t anyone new, is there?”

 

Quinn thought of the Slayer’s kid sister, about how Buffy hadn’t known about her father’s illegitimate daughter until recently, and she thought she knew who the Key was. If she could figure it out, Travers could, too, and it would only be a matter of time until he discovered that the geas hadn’t forced Spike to deliver it.

 

“It’s business as usual, as far as I can tell,” Quinn responded. “I’ll let you know if anyone new shows up, though.”

 

She just hoped he couldn’t sense when she was lying.

 

~~~~~

 

“So, what’s Spike getting you for Christmas?”

 

Buffy smiled. “What happened to loving surprises?”

 

Willow shrugged. “Surprises are nice, but knowing is sometimes nice, too. How is Spike at keeping a secret?”

 

“Way too good,” Buffy admitted with a smile. “I have no idea if he’s even gone shopping yet.”

 

They were walking along the main street, having taken the evening to do a little shopping of their own. Everyone else had been busy doing one thing or another—Tara taking her last test of the semester, Wesley working with Spike to get a full range of motion back in his ankle, Dawn learning basic self-defense from the two of them, her mom and Giles spending time with the baby, Xander and Anya having a date night.

 

Buffy had missed spending time with just her and Willow; so much of her life revolved around Spike now. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it had changed the dynamics of their friendship.

 

“Wesley’s terrible at keeping secrets.” Willow grinned. “I think that’s why he waits until last minute to shop.”

 

“I think he does that because he’s a guy,” Buffy retorted. “Xander is the same way. I keep waiting for him to panic and ask me what he should get Anya.”

 

Willow made a face. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

 

“You guys aren’t fighting again, are you?”

 

“No. Not really. We don’t see enough of each other to fight,” Willow replied. “It’s just—what does he see in her?”

 

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “You know, I asked Spike the same question about Wesley when he first hired him.”

 

She sighed. “You’re right. It’s Xander’s life.”

 

“You weren’t happy about him dating Cordelia either,” Buffy pointed out.

 

“But that was _Cordelia_ ,” Willow said. “And before you say it, Xander’s my best friend. I love him, but I don’t feel that way about him anymore.” Willow gave her a sharp look. “Changing the subject, how are you doing?”

 

“With what?”

 

“With the new baby brother?”

 

Buffy realized that it wasn’t for nothing that Willow was her oldest friend. “He’s adorable. Mom and Giles are completely wrapped up in him, and that leaves Spike and me with Dawn-duty. Technically, she _is_ our responsibility, though, so I can’t complain.”

 

“And with the fact that your mom had a baby?”

 

Buffy shrugged. “She’s happy. Giles is over the moon. I’m okay. Really.”

 

Until that point, Buffy had been fairly wrapped up in their conversation, and had given only cursory attention to their surroundings. They were off of Main Street now, however, into one of the quieter business districts that they had to pass through on the way to Spike’s house, and Buffy sensed that they were being followed.

 

“Willow, I think we have company.”

 

“I’m with you.” Willow’s voice was perfectly calm, and Buffy couldn’t help but think about how far the other girl had come.

 

They both turned at the same time, and the sight of the armored men, fifty yards away and closing, sent a wave of terror through her.

 

The soldiers—knights, really—were those from her dream, the ones who had killed Willow.

 

“Will, go get Spike and Wes.” Buffy kept her voice low. She was hoping that they wanted her, and that if Willow ran, they wouldn’t pay too much attention.

 

“Buffy, no. I can help.”

 

“I know you can, but I need you to get Spike. I can hold them off. Hurry! Before it’s too late!”

 

Willow stared at her for a long, breathless moment, then seemed to decide that it was for the best. “Be careful.”

 

Buffy nodded, then began walking towards the soldiers, wanting to provide a distraction to allow Willow to escape. “You’ve been following me.”

 

The lead knight responded. “You have the Key.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Buffy replied. “Unless you want my house keys, which you’re not getting. I don’t think my boyfriend would be pleased to wake up next to you.”

 

“The Slayer and the Guardian are sworn to protect the Key.” The knight spoke as though she’d said nothing, and his companions were eerily silent. Buffy could see the tattoos on their foreheads, and she flashed back to what Quinn had told her about Luka’s last words. He’d said that soldiers were coming, and they had finally shown up. “And we know the Key is a person.”

 

Buffy shrugged, trying to stifle her fear. “I’m sworn to protect the world, and if the Key is part of that, I can see where you’re coming from. That doesn’t mean I know where it is.”

 

“The Key is the Link. The Link must be severed. Such is the will of God.”

 

Buffy could see the capital letters flying out of his mouth, and she knew that she was dealing with religious fanatics. There were some people who just couldn’t be reasoned with—and she was looking at them. “No one severs anybody in this town, unless it’s me.”

 

“You must turn over the Key to us, Slayer.”

 

“Or what? You’ll say ‘nee’ until our ears bleed?” Buffy recognized the voice immediately as Quinn’s. “Because I have to say, you lot aren’t all that frightening.”

 

The knights turned to get a better look at the newcomer, and Buffy decided to take advantage of her opportunity. Maybe they hadn’t attacked her—yet—but she got the feeling that it was only a matter of time. Buffy soon found herself back to back with Quinn, fighting off the half dozen knights.

 

“I’m assuming you have backup on the way,” Quinn managed between ducking a sword thrust and attempting to find a weak spot in one knight’s armor with her knife.

 

“Should be here any minute.” Buffy had to jump over a spear swipe and watched as one of the knights collapsed. “Thank God.”

 

“What—” Quinn began, but the knight she had been fighting went down as well, and the others were soon unconscious. “Nice to see you guys.”

 

Wesley was holstering his tranq pistol. “I wasn’t sure I was up to fancy footwork.”

 

“And there were way too many sharp objects being waved around for me,” Willow added, looking at the bodies with a satisfied expression. “That new sleep spell we put together works perfectly.”

 

“Thanks,” Buffy said. “Things were beginning to get a little dicey.”

 

“And why the hell didn’t you run?” Spike asked, having moved the knights’ weapons away from where they could easily reach them once they started to wake up. “You sent Willow off.”

 

“They’re the knights from my dream, Spike,” Buffy said quietly. “And on the off chance they didn’t know where you lived and where—” She stopped. “Never mind.”

 

“I know.” Quinn cleared her throat. “I was on my way over to tell you that Travers had called. He said something that made it clear who the Key is.”

 

“What did he say?” Spike demanded. “Does he know?”

 

“I made a comment about Buffy’s family growing. I didn’t realize that it might be significant until after the words were out of my mouth.” Quinn appeared embarrassed. “When he asked, I mentioned that Giles and Joyce’s new baby, and there was nothing out of the ordinary, but I didn’t say anything about Dawn. I’m not sure if he bought it or not.”

 

“Shit.” Buffy saw the pained expression on Quinn’s face, and shook her head. “It’s not your fault. There isn’t a lot we can do to hide the fact that Dawn just showed up. If you have enough of the pieces, the rest of the picture just forms itself.”

 

“There’s one more thing,” Quinn said. “Travers has at least one other informant in town. He knew I was spending time with you.”

 

Buffy glanced down at the unconscious bodies and thought of what the lead knight had said to her. “They know the Key is a person,” she said slowly. “Would Travers be aware of that?”

 

“From the translation of the prophecy, yes,” Wesley said. “It talks about the Key’s blood, so it would almost have to be, at least by default.”

 

“Then these might be Travers’ informants,” Quinn said.

 

“That seems to bring up the problem of what we’re going to do about them” Wesley pointed out, nudging one of the bodies with his toe.

 

“You and I will take care of them while Buffy and the others check on Dawn.” Spike’s tone indicated that he was not going to allow argument. “We had to leave her alone.”

 

Buffy wanted to ask what Spike was going to do with the bodies, then decided that she didn’t want to know, not until after the fact when the deed would be done. “Thanks, Spike.”

 

“Need any help?” Quinn asked diffidently. “It’s the least I can do.” She shrugged. “I figure it’s only a matter of time before they reveal my role in this fight to Travers.”

 

“That’s only if we aren’t successful at stalling them,” Spike responded. “But yeah, Quinn, we could use an extra pair of hands.” He glanced at Buffy. “See you at home?”

 

“Of course.”  As she accompanied Willow to Spike’s place, Buffy couldn’t shake the sense of impending doom that she had. With the knights in her vision showing up, it could only be a matter of time before they faced the rest of what her vision had promised.

 

And it seemed as though her fears were coming to life.


	22. Chapter 22

**“All lovely things will have an ending,/All lovely things will fade and die,/And youth, that’s now so bravely spending,/Will beg a penny by and by./Fine ladies soon are all forgotten,/ And goldenrod is dust when dead,/The sweetest flesh and flowers are rotten/And cobwebs tent the brightest head./Come back, true love! Sweet youth, return!—/But time goes on, and will unheeding,/Though hands will reach, and eyes will yearn,/And the wild days set true hearts bleeding…” ~Conrad Aiken, “All Lovely Things”**

 

Spike finished loading the last unconscious body in Joyce’s SUV. He’d made a quick run to the Summers’ house to pick it up, knowing that it was the only vehicle that would allow them to transport the knights somewhere else.

 

“What are we going to do with them?” Quinn asked once he’d shut the back door.

 

“You’re going to head back to my place and stay with Buffy and Willow,” Spike replied. “Wes and I will take care of these gits. I’d rather not place you at anymore risk than you already are.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, go on,” Spike said with a jerk of his head.

 

As Quinn jogged off, Wesley gave Spike a sharp look. “You don’t think they already know?”

 

Spike shook his head. “I don’t think they’re going to find out.”

 

Wesley stiffened. “What exactly are we going to do with them, Spike?”

 

Spike leaned against the vehicle. “You remember Buffy’s dream, right?”

 

As Spike had expected, Wesley’s expression hardened. “These are the knights.”

 

“It’s why Buffy was so spooked,” Spike confirmed. “So, I figure we make sure they don’t come back anytime soon.”

 

“I’m your man.” Wesley slid into the passenger seat, resting his forearm on the door out the open window. “Where are we taking them?”

 

“The desert. Figure we’ll leave them in the middle of nowhere, no armor, and with a couple of bottles of water. They might live, they might not. I don’t think I care.”

 

Wesley winced. “That should be effective.”

 

“We can’t risk the Council finding out about Quinn, and we can’t risk them finding the Key. You know what they’d do.”

 

“I think that ‘severing the Link’ speaks for itself.”

 

“I have a proposition for you, Wes.”

 

“I’m not going to like it, am I?”

 

“No, you’re really not.”

 

“Let’s hear it.”

 

“Can you get back in the Council?”

 

“You want me to infiltrate the _Council_? After how I left things with my father? There’s no way.”

 

Spike cleared his throat. “I was thinking something a little sneakier than that.”

 

“Let’s hear it.”

 

“I need you to find a weak spot, someone on the Council you think you can get information out of. I want to know what they want with Dawn, and there’s only one way we’re going to get that information.”

 

Wesley shook his head. “There’s no one on the Council that would trust me enough to give me that sort of information, even if I managed to talk my way back in. I’d still be viewed as tainted, and probably sent off to Bath as a researcher.” He paused and looked over at Spike. “But you just want to get me in the door.”

 

“Yeah. You’re a dab hand with a truth spell, Wes, and if they’re willing to put a geas on me, I have no problem giving them a taste of their own medicine.”

 

Wesley leaned back in the seat, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I know of someone who might know. There’s just one problem. Whomever we truth spell is going to know.”

 

“Not if they don’t remember it afterward, and Willow has Christmas break coming up.”

 

“You’re talking about a very complicated operation, Spike,” Wesley observed. “A trip to England, preferably without the Council knowing that we’re gone, kidnapping someone for long enough to do the truth spell, and then wiping their memory of the event.”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Who is it going to be?”

 

Spike felt Wesley’s hesitation before he said, “My father. He’s neck deep in this.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“I’m positive.” There was a grim pleasure in his voice that Spike understood well.

 

~~~~~

 

“What did you do with them?” Buffy asked, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “And we have to leave shortly.”

 

“I’m aware.” Spike’s voice was muffled by the long sleeved t-shirt he was pulling over his head. “And I left them in the middle of the desert.”

 

Buffy stopped to stare at him. “What?”

 

“I left a couple of bottles of water with them. They won’t die. Probably.”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Knights, vision, Willow. If they’re dead, or out of the way, they can’t kill her.”

 

“That’s true enough.” Buffy sighed and applied lip-gloss. “I hate this, Spike.”

 

“What about it do you hate?”

 

“Everything. We have this prophecy, but we don’t know what’s coming next. Glory is running around, doing who knows what, and the Council—Quinn thinks the Knights were working with them somehow.”

 

She sensed Spike’s hesitation. “What is it?”

 

“I’m sending Wesley to England, to get info out of the Council with a truth spell.”

 

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

 

“More than a little, but he’ll be taking Willow with him, maybe one other.” Spike sighed. “Wesley agreed to it, Buffy. I wouldn’t ask anyone to do it unless they volunteered.”

 

“I know.” Buffy did know, but this was part of what she hated. It was one thing to go out night after night to kill vampires and demons. It was something else to send her friends halfway around the world to spy on an organization that was supposed to be supporting her.

 

Still, Buffy was aware that they might have to do a lot more that they found distasteful before it was all over. “Let’s go,” she finally said. “We can talk about this later as a group.”

 

They were silent during the short drive to her mother’s house, and as Buffy stared out the window, it suddenly hit her—how normal this all was. “Did you ever think you’d be doing something like this?”

 

“Do you mean trying to beat the Council at their own game while trying to hold off a bunch of Renaissance Fair rejects and figuring out how not to end the world? Or do you mean driving the Slayer to visit her mom, who is planning on marrying her Watcher tomorrow?”

 

Buffy smirked. “This. Being normal.”

 

“We’re far from normal, luv,” Spike replied. “But no, I didn’t. What time are we supposed to be there tomorrow, anyway?”

 

“Noon. Mom said that they’d arranged an appointment with the Justice of the Peace.” She snorted. “And if you had told me a few years ago that my mom and my Watcher…” Buffy trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, remembering the thoughts she’d overheard from her mother’s mind when she’d been infected with the demon blood.

 

“Would you ever want that?”

 

“Want what?” Buffy asked, honestly puzzled.

 

Spike shrugged, looking straight ahead through the windshield down the street. He’d just pulled up in front of 1630 Revello, but neither of them had made a move to get out. “Marriage. I know the other isn’t possible, but—”

 

“I don’t know. Do you?”

 

“Wes has talked about asking Willow,” Spike said in a low voice. “I wouldn’t want you to think that I’m asking just because everybody around us seems to be getting married.”

 

Buffy had no idea how to answer that question. There was something about dating a vampire—and living with one—that had put her focus on the now. She might be going to college, but she hadn’t given much thought to what she would do when she finished. She was with Spike, but she hadn’t thought about marriage.

 

It had been different with Angel. Then, everything had been about how they would be together forever, but now she knew how unlikely forever was, and so it was just easier not to think about it. How could she think past the next apocalypse, when there was no guarantee that either of them would make it through?

 

“Ask me again when this is over,” she finally said. “I’m not saying that it isn’t something I would want, but with Glory and everything else, there’s just too much to think about.”

 

“Fair enough.” He leaned over to press a hard kiss to her lips. “Let’s go. Your mum is probably wondering why we’re sitting out here.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn lay in bed, hearing Joyce hum a lullaby as Thomas fussed in the next room. She had wound up with Buffy’s old room, which was mostly filled with her sister’s old stuff. Dawn had thought about asking Buffy and Spike if she could stay with them for a while because of the new baby, but she thought that might look like ingratitude.

 

And she wasn’t—ungrateful, that was. She knew that Giles and Joyce didn’t have to provide a place for her to stay, and Spike was rich enough that he could have sent her off to boarding school somewhere, far away from Glory and her reach.

 

Even though she knew that she probably shouldn’t have, Dawn had eavesdropped on the after-dinner meeting. She had lied about having a book to read over break, knowing that the others wouldn’t hold back quite so much if they thought she was upstairs in her room.

 

So, she’d huddled on the stairs, just out of sight, listening to Spike describe the knights, and she had shuddered at what they had said. The words still echoed in her head: “The Key is the link. The Link must be severed. Such is the will of God.”

 

Dawn wondered glumly if it might not be better that way, easier for everybody. She wondered if she would go back to being a big ball of energy, or if she would simply cease to be. Luka might have known, but he was dead; Glory had killed him because she wanted Dawn.

 

Moving as silently as possible, Dawn went to the window and slid up the sash, letting the cool air hit her face. She glanced out at the roof, gauging how hard it would be to get to the ground. She was suddenly certain that Buffy had done this, that she had snuck out after dark via this very route.

 

Then again, Buffy was the Slayer.

 

With a sigh, Dawn slid the window shut again, deciding that her restlessness wasn’t going to be assuaged by sneaking out. With her luck, she’d break a leg.

 

Dawn stuffed her feet in the fuzzy blue slippers and shuffled out into the hallway, nearly running into Joyce who was bouncing Thomas in her arms. “Sorry,” she whispered.

 

“What are you doing up, sweetheart? Couldn’t you sleep?”

 

“No, not really.”

 

“We didn’t wake you did we?”

 

Dawn shook her head. “No. I was still awake.”

 

Joyce paused, really looking at Dawn for the first time in what felt like days. Not that Dawn could blame her exactly. The dark circles under Joyce’s eyes spoke of how tired she was with a new baby in the house. “I’ll make us some cocoa. Why don’t you go downstairs, and I’ll be there in a moment?”

 

Dawn was sitting at the kitchen island when Joyce appeared a few minutes later, without Thomas. “Did you have to wake Giles up?”

 

“It’s good for him,” Joyce replied. “I don’t think I’ve shown you my secret recipe yet, have I?”

 

Dawn was suddenly intrigued, almost in spite of herself. “It’s a secret? Does Buffy know?”

 

“She’s never really been interested in learning.”

 

Dawn stood next to Joyce at the stove, admiring Joyce’s quick, sure movements as she poured milk into a saucepan and showed Dawn the best way to chop the chocolate. Truth be told, there was more than a little overlap in her mind between Joyce and her mother—who wasn’t real and only existed in Dawn’s head.

 

Maybe it was because Joyce _was_ real, as was her low, patient voice, her silky green robe. Even though the moment felt a little surreal. “How are you, sweetheart?”

 

Dawn didn’t know how to answer that question; she didn’t know if honesty _was_ the best policy under the circumstances. How could she tell the person who had taken her in that she didn’t feel real, and that there were days where she wondered if she wouldn’t be better off dead?

 

“I guess as well as can be expected.”

 

“You know, I could tell you about how when I was your age, I went through some of the same kinds of trials, and trying to figure out who I was, but I have a feeling that would ring hollow.”

 

Dawn couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “Yeah, kind of.”

 

“Well, hang in there, and remember that I’m here for you, just like Buffy and Spike, and I’m sure any of the others.” Joyce held up a bottle of spice so that Dawn could see the label. “Cinnamon. My secret ingredient.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.” Joyce gave Dawn a brief hug. “And now you know my secret recipe.”

 

Dawn looked at her hopefully. “Do you have any of those little marshmallows?”

 

~~~~~

 

Tara bounced Thomas expertly to quiet him. Spike and Buffy were standing up with Joyce and Giles, and Wesley had Willow had were busy with various activities. When they had asked Tara to babysit Thomas, she had agreed eagerly.

 

Call her crazy, but Tara loved babies.

 

The knock on the door startled her, and Tara looked down at the infant. “Let’s see who that is, shall we, Tommy?”

 

She saw Quinn on the porch through the windows, and quickly opened the door for her.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey. Come on in.”

 

“Wesley told me you were here,” Quinn explained, closing the door behind her. “I went by to talk to him about the prophecy, and the Council.”

 

“It’s been awhile,” Tara replied. “It’s good to see you.”

 

“You too.” Quinn hesitated. “I, uh, wanted to let you know that I’m going to my parents’ place for Christmas. So I won’t be around.”

 

“Of course. I figured that you would. Travers let you have the time, huh?”

 

“Who says I asked for permission?” Quinn gave her a cheeky grin. “With Travers, sometimes it’s better to beg pardon.”

 

“I could see that.”

 

Quinn leaned over to see the baby. “So, this is Mr. Giles’ new son, huh?”

 

“This is Thomas,” Tara affirmed. “He’s a really good baby.”

 

Quinn held out a finger for Thomas to grab onto, which he did, grinning at her. “Hey, look at that.”

 

“You like babies?”

 

The other woman shrugged. “I haven’t had a lot of experience with them, to be honest, other than my sister.”

 

“How many years are there between you?”

 

“Eight, so I guess you could say that I have some experience.” Quinn smiled. “All my life, I’ve been focused on protecting her, and now what I’m doing could end up killing her.”

 

“I don’t think it’s going to come to that, Quinn. We’re going to stop the Council, and the apocalypse.” Tara smiled. “We have before.”

 

They both sat down on the couch. Thomas had settled now and was sleeping securely in Tara’s arms. “You’re so certain,” Quinn said softly.

 

“You haven’t watched them—us—in action before.”

 

“I’ll bet it’s a sight to behold.”

 

“It really is.”

 

Quinn stared at her silently for a few moments, and the intensity made her nervous. “Quinn?”

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Tara swallowed nervously. “Yes.”

 

Quinn’s lips were soft, hesitant, the kiss almost chaste. Tara wanted to frame Quinn’s face with her hands, felt her heart begin to beat faster. Quinn was suddenly all she wanted, all she could taste.

 

“It’s going to be hard not to see you,” Quinn whispered.

 

“How long are you going to be gone?”

 

“A week.” Quinn put a hand to her cheek. “Too long.”

 

Tara smiled. “We’re on the same side now.”

 

“We are.”

 

Thomas began fussing, and Tara chuckled. “I think he needs to be changed.” She looked up shyly. “Do you want to stay?”

 

“I’d love to.”

 

Tara wondered if it could really be that simple, but even if it wasn’t, Tara was just going to enjoy the moment.


	23. Chapter 23

**“it is at moments after i have dreamed/of the rare entertainment of your eyes,/when(being fool to fancy)i have deemed/with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;/at moments when the glassy darkness holds/the genuine apparition of your smile/(it was through tears always)and silence moulds/such strangeness as was mine a little while;/moments when my once more illustrious arms/are filled with fascination, when my breast/wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:/one pierced moment whiter than the rest/—turning from the tremendous lie of sleep/i watch the roses of the day grow deep.” ~e. e. cummings, “It Is At Moments After I Have Dreamed”**

 

“So, do you feel any different?”

 

Joyce smiled, pulling a sleeping Thomas away from her bare breast and adjusting her nightgown. The ceremony had been simple, and as different from her first marriage as was possible. The justice of the peace had performed the ceremony, Buffy and Spike had served as witnesses, and there had been a simple reception at a local restaurant afterwards.

 

No white dress, no invitations, and no flowers other than what Spike had brought for her. It had been perfect.

 

Now, she sat rocking and nursing her infant son, and her new husband stood in the doorway, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. It was strangely romantic.

 

“I feel the same as I did yesterday, or this morning.” Joyce rose, trying not to jar her sleeping son. She put him down in his crib, and he stirred once then was still. “We’re still the same people we were, living in the same place, and with the same lives.”

 

Giles framed her face, and she saw the glint of gold on his left hand. “I suppose that’s true.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

He sounded puzzled, and she kissed him, her touch urgent. They wouldn’t get a honeymoon; she didn’t want to be away from Thomas for more than a few hours at a time. Tonight, this moment, was all that they had.

 

Perhaps it was all they would ever have: this was the lesson she had learned from her daughter. Life was short, and her only choice was to seize the moment as it presented itself.

 

They stumbled down the hallway, trying to be quiet so as not to wake Dawn or Thomas. Joyce knew that her body had not quite recovered from childbirth; she was not as young as she’d been when she’d had Buffy.

 

Giles didn’t seem to mind, however. He undressed her with reverence, paying special attention to her breasts, her stomach, his hands strong and sure.

 

Joyce had wondered whether they would someday fall out of love, just as she had with Hank, but in the end, she refused to worry about it. She loved him; he loved her.

 

Perhaps, this time, it was all they would need.

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed the break until arriving in Cleveland. She had accompanied her sister on patrol, happy to relate stories of Buffy and William the Bloody, hoping that those stories would provide inspiration. She had spoken with her parents of inconsequential things and helped her mom bake various traditional goodies.

 

Her mother was currently checking on the Christmas cake, and she looked up, declaring herself satisfied. “Well, that’s nearly ready.” Claire smiled. “Are you planning on coming to Christmas Eve service with us tonight, sweetheart?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Church wasn’t Quinn’s cup of tea, but she knew how much her mother appreciated the chance to have the entire family together again, and she’d be heading back to Sunnydale the day after Boxing Day. Quinn didn’t want to miss anything.

 

Claire O’Mara gave her a sharp look. “Tell me about this Tara girl,” she invited, thus making it clear that Oscar’s decision to go patrolling with Brynn had an ulterior motive. Her mother pumped her for information, and she filled her father in later.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quinn said automatically, then winced. Her parents, understandably enough, had been the first people she told about her attraction to the same sex. She had been twelve, and while others her age were squealing over boys, she had been distracted by the sight of a particularly lovely teacher.

 

It felt unnatural to lie to her parents, or to hide things from them, but that was what this assignment had done to her. Her first response was to hide, or to lie.

 

“I’m sorry, Mum.”

 

“Don’t be.” Claire pulled her into a tight embrace. “I know that this assignment has been difficult for you.”

 

Quinn met Claire’s clear blue eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay with the Council after this, Mum. What I’ve learned—”

 

“Your father and I were planning to leave,” Claire said conversationally, as though that piece of information didn’t require a fundamental shift in her worldview. “The Council that our parents were a part of, that they served and loved, no longer exists. Politics and power, that’s all anyone cares about these days.”

 

“You were going to leave?” Quinn asked, still stuck on that tidbit.

 

Claire nodded. “We were, and then we had you, and you were identified as a Potential. We knew that the only possible way to keep you close was to stay with the Council, although we distanced ourselves as much as possible.”

 

Quinn stared down at the kitchen table—brand new for the first time in her memory. Watchers tended to travel lightly unless they knew they would be staying in one spot. With Brynn assigned to the Cleveland Hellmouth, it was unlikely that they would move again.

 

Not until something happened to her sister, and Quinn knew that the new furniture, and all the other signs that they were settling in, were indications that they were hoping for the best.

 

“Tara works with Buffy,” she finally said. “She’s—she’s the first person I’ve wanted to be with in a long time.”

 

Claire smiled. “And if Travers found out, nothing good would come of it.”

 

“Hell, I’m fairly certain that if Travers found out I’m a dyke, he wouldn’t care for it,” Quinn said bitterly, remembering some of the comments from the students in her class. She had never come right out and said anything, but there had been rumors.

 

And no one had had anything kind to say.

 

“You know you have our support,” Claire said quietly. “Your father and I have talked about it, and we trust you.”

 

Quinn almost wished that they didn’t trust her quite so much; it was a weighty burden. “There’s a prophecy about a souled vampire, Mum,” she said. “Travers wants the power for the Council; he wants control.”

 

“He wants it for himself, is more like it.” Her mother spoke with a bitterness that Quinn had not often heard. “This _is_ William the Bloody, yes?”

 

She nodded. “Why?”

 

“Because there’s something I want you to see.”

 

Claire left the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a thick, leather-bound book. “There aren’t many copies like this,” she began. “Of course, every Watcher grows up with stories of William the Bloody, but no one believed that he was real until the last few years.” She patted the book with fondness. “This is one of the few places where all of the stories that have been collected can be found.”

 

“Why didn’t you show me this before?” Quinn demanded. She had heard of William the Bloody at the Academy, and later when he’d shown up in Sunnydale, but she hadn’t heard half the legends that her classmates had.

 

Claire sighed. “For the same reason that all Slayers are told that vampires are irredeemably evil, my dear. To believe otherwise might cause you to hesitate at a crucial moment. There are times when it is better to see in black and white.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Now, you are a Watcher, and you must be aware of the shades of gray in order to make an informed decision.” Claire reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Quinn, there is nothing your father or I can do to make this easier for you. We have spent two decades working for an organization we no longer trust in order to protect those most precious to us.”

 

Quinn sat staring at the book long after her mother had risen and left the kitchen. She looked up, out the darkened window that was closed to the wintry night. Just as it was warmer in Sunnydale than she’d been used to, it was colder in Cleveland.

 

She ran her hand over the plain cover of the book, understanding what her mother hadn’t put into words: she was an adult now, and capable of reading the shades of gray. She was a Watcher, and making difficult decisions was her job.

 

Quinn thought of Tara and her calm blue eyes.

 

Without thinking about it, she reached for the phone. There was someone she could call for information, someone she could trust. And even if she ended up burning a few bridges, she thought it might be worth it in the end.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara hitched her bag more securely over her shoulder and cast an anxious look at her watch. Their flight was leaving shortly, but she wasn’t worried about missing it. The trip itself worried her, since they were walking into the lion’s den.

 

Given their mission, she was most concerned about Wesley, who appeared unruffled on the surface, but she knew better.

 

She was changing. Tara knew that, but she wondered if anyone else had noticed it, or sensed it. Willow would always be more powerful, but Tara suspected that she felt more, sensed more. She had always thought that it was a product of her mother’s teaching, but these days she wondered if it didn’t have more to do with her heritage.

 

“You’ll be alright?”

 

Tara was startled to find Spike looking at her with the same expression he’d worn when he’d suggested she meet Robert. “I’ll be fine, Spike.” When he continued to watch her, Tara smiled. “Really.”

 

“You’re the sensible one.” His voice was low. “But if they find out what you are, they might try…”

 

He trailed off, and Tara nodded. “I understand. No one seems to notice.”

 

Spike smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “There are those of us who notice, pet. We just don’t need to shout it from the rooftops.”

 

“What do you know that I don’t, Spike?” Tara asked, suddenly feeling as though he had a secret that he wasn’t telling her.

 

He leaned in close. Out of the corner of her eye, Tara could see Willow and Buffy embracing tightly, and Wesley was grabbing their carry-on bags. “There are stories I could tell you,” he murmured. “I always thought they were just stories folks told themselves to feel better.”

 

Spike stepped back. “When you get back, I’ll tell you.”

 

“I’ll hold you to that.” It wasn’t a threat, not quite, and Spike just grinned, slinging an arm over Buffy’s shoulders.

 

“Be careful, Wes.” The vampire was serious again in one of his mercurial shifts in moods. “I don’t want to plan a rescue mission.”

 

Wesley nodded. “We will.”

 

And then the voice over the loudspeaker was calling their flight for the last time, and Tara followed closely on Wesley and Willow’s footsteps. It was her first trip to another country, and Tara thought it was a measure of how much her life had changed that their purpose was rather unorthodox.

 

~~~~~

 

“Are you certain that you’re amenable to the plan?”

 

Willow didn’t bother trying to hide her smile. Wesley’s words tended to get a lot bigger when he was nervous or worried, and she couldn’t blame him in this case. After much discussion—and a few serious arguments—they had all agreed that the easiest way for Wesley to arrange a meeting with his father was to introduce her to his fiancée.

 

Wesley hadn’t liked the plan much, mostly because their engagement was a ruse. “I don’t want to pretend to be engaged!” he’d protested.

 

“Then make it official,” Spike had shot back.

 

Wesley hadn’t bothered to reply to that, and the discussion had continued as though he’d never protested. She suspected that his unhappiness stemmed from the fact that he’d planned on proposing sometime in the future, and by faking it, some of his thunder had been stolen.

 

Now that they were in their hotel room, lying side by side in the darkness, Willow thought he might finally tell her what she’d suspected all along.

 

“Wesley, if you’re so uncomfortable pretending to be engaged to me, why don’t we make it official?”

 

There was a long silence. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

 

Willow giggled. “Only if you want me to.”

 

“Willow, I—”

 

“We could just be engaged for a while,” she continued. “It’s not like we’d have to get married right away.”

 

She felt the bed shift as he raised himself up on an elbow. “You’d want to get married?”

 

“Someday, yeah.” Willow decided that they needed light for this conversation, and she reached out to turn on the bedside lamp. “Why are you so certain that I wouldn’t want to?”

 

Wesley cleared his throat, staring at the garish flowers on the bedspread. “I thought—you’re still young, and I wondered if—”

 

Willow snorted, interrupting him. “You think I’m that fickle?”

 

“Of course not,” he said quickly. “But you’re not yet 21, Willow. You may decide that you do not want to tie yourself to one person.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “And how old do you think I need to be to make a decision that affects the rest of my life then?”

 

Wesley seemed to finally sense the danger he was in. “Uh, no particular age,” he backtracked. “But we haven’t talked about it until now, and it just seems as though it came out of nowhere.”

 

“It did, but it’s crossed my mind,” Willow admitted. “I want to be with you. We fit together, we’ve worked magic together.” She ran a hand down his bare chest, feeling rough hair and smooth muscles. “I love you.”

 

Wesley’s smile was sad. “You haven’t met my father yet.”

 

“How bad was it, Wesley?”

 

They had never actually talked about his childhood, not in specifics. The subject had been taboo until now, but Willow wanted some idea of what she was walking into, and what the expected fallout might be.

 

When he maintained his silence, she continued, “You know what my parents are like.”

 

“I’ve never met your parents.”

 

“Exactly.” Willow tucked her hair behind her ears. “They were never involved in my life. The only time my mom expressed interest was when that demon got everybody worked up against the occult and then she tried to burn me at the stake.”

 

Wesley laid back, his eyes on the ceiling. “My father had very high expectations for me, and when I didn’t live up to those expectations, he found a way to let me know.”

 

“Did he hurt you?”

 

“No, not in that sense. That would have been too uncivilized. He had other methods.”

 

Willow kept her silence, waiting to see if he would say more.

 

“There was a cupboard.” When she frowned, he amended, “A closet. A small one.”

 

“How long?”

 

“Three days. That was the longest.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “He forgot that I was in there.”

 

Willow put her head down on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. “I can turn him into a frog if you want. After we get the information we need, of course.”

 

His laughter was unsteady, but she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you, love.”

 

Willow noticed that he didn’t exactly turn down her offer, and she resolved to wait until after they’d done the truth spell. She thought she could turn him into something appropriately nasty that would wear off after awhile.

 

Or maybe she should just leave him like that.


	24. Chapter 24

**“Escape is such a thankful Word/I often in the Night/Consider it unto myself/No spectacle in sight/Escape—it is the Basket/In which the Heart is caught/When down some awful Battlement/The rest of Life is dropt—/’Tis not to sight the savior—/It is to be the saved—/And that is why I lay my Head/Upon this trusty word—” ~Emily Dickinson**

 

Dante had searched for any sign of his brothers and had come up empty handed. Orlando had failed to report back, and after a week of silence, the General had sent Dante to locate the missing Knights.

 

The Slayer and Guardian had been celebrating the holiday, and gave no indication that they were in danger. They had not appeared particularly concerned, or wary, and he wondered if the Watchers’ Council had been mistaken about the Key being present in Sunnydale.

 

He would never question the General to his face, but Dante didn’t trust these men who watched but did not act. And yet he had seen the prophecy with his own eyes, and he knew that the General would not have agreed to work with the Watchers without reason.

 

With no sign of Orlando or the other Knights, he had been ordered to continue surveillance, and he was less than a block away from the Guardian’s home, heading towards the Slayer’s residence. So far, he’d determined that there were two possibilities as to who the Key might be: the infant and the young sister of the Slayer. Neither possibility had pleased him, however; he knew his duty, and he would perform it, even if it meant killing a child.

 

“What have we here?”

 

Dante had not expected to be confronted. He’d dressed to blend in, and had pulled a hat down low on his head to hide his tattoo. The woman advancing on him was not someone he recognized.

 

“What do you want?” he asked coldly, not sensing danger.

 

“Mostly, I want a snack.” She smiled. “It was nice of you to show up just when I was looking for the Slayer. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to talk to her tonight.”

 

Dante didn’t have a chance to respond. She moved much faster than he’d thought possible, her hands seizing his head, and then delving into his skull.

 

He was a soldier and prided himself on his strength, but the pain caused him to scream. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop.

 

~~~~~

 

The first thing Buffy thought of when she heard the sound was that it sounded like a wounded animal. “Spike!”

 

“I heard it.” He paused just long enough to shove his feet into his boots and grab his ax while Buffy did the same, although she retrieved her new sword—a Christmas gift from Spike—instead. “You’d think we’d get one evening to relax.”

 

“It’s Sunnydale,” Buffy replied, as though that explained everything, and maybe it did.

 

They rushed out the front door, running towards the screams, which continued relentlessly. As Buffy neared the location, she saw Glory, her hands on either side of a man’s head. He didn’t look familiar, but as she got closer, it became clear that Glory’s hands were _buried_ in his skull.

 

“Bloody hell.” Buffy knew that Spike had just realized the same thing she had, and he shouted to get Glory’s attention before she could. “Hey, Hellbitch!”

 

Glory released the man, who slumped on the sidewalk, his screams tapering off to whimpers. “It’s you. Just the people I wanted to see.”

 

Buffy swallowed, not liking the sound of that. “Oh, yeah? What did you have to say?”

 

“I want my Key,” Glory replied, stepping over the man’s body. He was curled into a fetal position on the ground, and Buffy heard him mumbling.

 

Buffy shrugged, feigning nonchalance, trying to keep one eye on the Hellgod and one on Spike, who was moving to flank her. “I can’t help you. Sorry.”

 

“I know you have it,” Glory replied. “I just want to go home.”

 

“And destroy the world in the process,” Buffy shot back. “Sorry, no can do. I like the world the way it is.”

 

“This world?” Glory scoffed. “It smells, no one recognizes my greatness, and I _want to go HOME_!”

 

Her voice rose in a crescendo, and Spike swung just as she said the final word. For a moment, Buffy thought he was going to be successful, but she raised a hand and stopped the blade inches from her head.

 

Glory caught the blade with her hand, however, and she howled with pain as she snatched it away from Spike. “Son of a bitch!”

 

The Hellgod swung the ax at him, and Spike raised his arm to protect his neck—Buffy didn’t think that even the Gem of Amara would save him from dusting if she managed to behead him. His arm caught the shaft, and Buffy heard the crack of bone. She swung the sword, and it bit deeply into Glory’s side.

 

Buffy was gratified to hear Glory’s shriek of rage and pain, but as soon as she pulled the sword free, she could see the wound close through the tear in Glory’s dress. Spike had used her distraction to escape the swinging ax, however, and he went low, head-butting her in the stomach, and taking both of them to the ground.

 

She stood, watching the action, wishing she could get involved, but Spike was too close to the Hellgod, and Buffy had no opportunity to intervene, not without risking his life, too.

 

Finally, Spike kicked Glory off of him, and Buffy thrust the sword through the Hellgod’s body, pinning her to the ground. “Spike!”

 

He’d grabbed the ax, and he swung it at her neck and would have at least come close to decapitating her when Glory managed to pull the sword free, rolling out of the way. This time, she went after Buffy, and with a cry of triumph, managed to pierce her shoulder with the blade.

 

Buffy gasped in pain, stumbling backwards. She would have landed on her ass if Spike hadn’t caught her.

 

Glory sneered as she broke the sword across her knee. “You’ll need more than that to kill me. I want my Key, Slayer. Next time I won’t come after you.”

 

The Hellgod walked away, probably knowing that neither of them could best her, not with Buffy injured.

 

And maybe not even under the best of circumstances.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“It looks worse than it is,” Buffy assured him. “Although it hurts like a bitch.”

 

“We need to get you to the hospital.”

 

“No hospitals,” Buffy said forcefully. “I’ll be fine, Spike.”

 

“And him?”

 

Buffy looked at the man whose brains Glory had apparently scrambled. He was mumbling incoherently about searching, and lost men. “Spike? Look at his forehead.”

 

Spike swore when he rolled the man over to reveal the tattoo Buffy had just caught a glimpse of. “He’s one of the knights. They’re like bloody roaches.”

 

She couldn’t agree more. “Spike, I don’t know if we’re going to be able to kill her. There’s too much to contend with—the Council, the knights, Glory. If she goes after my mom, or Tommy…”

 

“We won’t let that happen.” But he didn’t sound convinced. “I’m calling an ambulance,” he insisted. “For both of you.”

 

“What are we going to tell the paramedics?”

 

Spike’s smile was grim. “Let’s see if they ask any questions.”

 

Buffy looked at her broken sword. “She broke my Christmas present.”

 

“I’ll get you a new one,” Spike replied. “And next time, I’ll make sure she can’t break it so easily.”

 

~~~~~

 

Giles wasn’t sure whether he should be annoyed that Spike and Buffy hadn’t called immediately, or if he should be relieved that he’d been able to sleep through the night. Since it was the first night he’d been able to get at least six hours of uninterrupted sleep, he decided that the latter was the better option.

 

Besides, what had been done, was done, and there was no sense in being upset about it.

 

Giving thanks that it was Sunday, and that neither he nor Joyce had to go to work, Giles sipped his tea. Buffy was leaning into Spike on the couch, the blue sling on her arm a testament to how badly she’d been injured, no matter what she said to the contrary.

 

“And what happened to the knight?”

 

“He’s in the hospital, in the psych ward,” Buffy replied. “The doctor said that there wasn’t a mark on him, and that there was no outer indication as to why he’d have gone crazy.”

 

Giles cleared his throat. “Is it possible that being out in the sun did it?”

 

Spike shook his head. “He wasn’t one of the ones I dropped in the desert.”

 

“You’re certain?”

 

The vampire gave him a dirty look. “I bloody well left them for dead, didn’t I? So yeah, I think I remember.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Giles, the doctor mentioned that there had been a huge upswing in the number of crazy people lately.” Buffy’s right hand reached inside her sling to scratch. “Considering that we saw Glory’s hands go inside that knight’s skull, I think we know the cause.”

 

“I’m less concerned with the brains Glory is scrambling than I am with killing her,” Spike growled. “We didn’t even make a dent.”

 

“It might be time to talk about getting Mom, Dawn, and Thomas out of town,” Buffy said slowly.

 

Giles shook his head. “I don’t think it’s come to that quite yet, although I will agree there’s cause for concern. I would suggest we wait until after the others return from England. Sending anyone away right now may only draw unwanted attention.”

 

“Unwanted attention to what?”

 

Giles wondered how long Dawn had been standing there, listening to them. Buffy was clearly unhappy that the girl had overheard any part of their conversation. “I thought you were sleeping. It’s Sunday.”

 

Dawn glared at her. “When were you going to tell me that you wanted to send me away?”

 

“We don’t _want_ to send you away.” Spike rose, putting his hands on her shoulders. “We would like to keep you alive, however, and we’re going to do whatever has to be done to that end. Got it?”

 

For a moment, Giles thought that Dawn was going to argue, but she nodded. “Okay. What happened to your arm?” she asked Buffy.

 

“A run-in with a demon.” Buffy’s answer was vague, but Giles supposed that was for the best. “Is Mom awake yet?”

 

“She’s feeding the baby, and don’t change the subject,” Dawn said, shrugging Spike’s hands off and plopping down in the spare chair.

 

Spike shrugged, as though to say “what can you do?” and returned to his seat on the couch next to Buffy. “Right. Rupert, I do think you’re right. Making any major changes could give the game away at this point, but I think that we’re going to need a safe house.”

 

Giles raised an eyebrow. “Do you have one in mind?”

 

“Robert. He’s expressed his willingness to help in the past. I think it might be time to visit him again, see if he’s still agreeable.”

 

“When will you go?” Giles asked.

 

“As soon as Wes and the others get back.” Spike glanced at Dawn. “Wanna go on a road trip, Little Bit?”

 

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you going to leave me there?”

 

“Are you going to behave and listen to us when we try to keep you safe?” Spike countered.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I supposed we’ll bring you back with us.” Spike’s wink softened the statement, and when Dawn gave him a reluctant smile, Giles was forced to wonder if he shouldn’t be taking parenting lessons from him.

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn had been highly disappointed to arrive back in Sunnydale to find that Tara wasn’t in town—at least to all appearances. The dorms were closed for the holidays, something she hadn’t considered. Although she would have preferred to talk to Tara first, she knew that Spike and Buffy had a right to her information.

 

She had planned on patrolling anyway, and she swung by Spike and Buffy’s place first.

 

“Welcome back,” Spike greeted her after she’d rung the doorbell. “Come on in.”

 

“Is Tara around?” Quinn asked, trying to sound like she didn’t much care about the answer one way or another.

 

“She’s in London,” came the rather surprising reply. “Coffee?”

 

“Yeah, thanks.” Quinn was grateful for the option. She was still feeling a bit jetlagged, and these days, she preferred coffee to tea. “London?”

 

“Fact-finding mission.” He waved her to the kitchen table. “Cream and sugar?”

 

“Black, please.” Quinn took a seat. She didn’t think she’d been in the kitchen before. Oddly enough, she felt more comfortable with Spike than with Buffy. She sensed the Slayer’s distrust, whereas the vampire seemed more willing to give her a chance. “Do I want to know what sort of facts she went to find?”

 

“Likely not.” He sat down across from her, sliding her mug across the table.

 

She hesitated. “And Buffy?”

 

“With her mum and sister,” Spike replied. “There were some threats made.”

 

“More knights?”

 

“We found one. Glory scrambled his brain, so I doubt he’ll give us any trouble.” He raised a scarred eyebrow. “What are you doing here, ducks?”

 

“I did some fact-finding of my own,” Quinn admitted. “I called a friend of mine from the Academy.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “Was that wise?”

 

“He’s not with the Council anymore,” Quinn assured him. “But his partner still is.” She smiled. “It was a bit of a scandal when he ran off with one of our professors immediately after graduation and announced that he’d much rather go to culinary school, thank you very much.”

 

Spike smirked. “I could see that.”  


“Reggie’s the sort who can get anyone to talk to him, and he collects bits of information like others collect stamps or coins.”

 

“And what had this Reggie collected?”

 

“His partner, our old professor, was asked to look at Wesley’s interpretation of the prophecy, and he realized there were pieces missing.” Quinn smiled. “He raised his concerns discreetly, and when he didn’t get a satisfactory answer, he began to make more noise.”

 

“I’m not sure how this affects us.” Spike took a slow sip of his coffee. “So what?”

 

“So, Travers may soon have his hands full dealing with internal strife, too full to focus on what’s going on in Sunnydale. My parents are reaching out to potential allies as well.” Quinn warmed her hands on her coffee mug, remembering the late night planning session they’d had, and wishing that they hadn’t needed to include Brynn.

 

No matter how much she wanted to protect her sister, Quinn knew that the other girl was going to have to grow up, and quickly.

 

“That would be good news.”

 

“There’s more,” Quinn said. “Reggie said that the word on the street is that Travers is collecting members of the wet works team. They’ve been scattered until now.”

 

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Now Spike’s eyes sharpened. “Do we know what’s being planned?”

 

Quinn shook her head. “That’s all Reggie had heard, but he said that he’d call with more information if he found anything else out.”

 

“With any luck, we’ll have more information after the others return.”

 

Quinn opened her mouth to ask questions about the trip, but realized that Spike was unlikely to share that sort of information with her. And maybe it was better that she didn’t know.

 

“Anything else happened while I was gone?”

 

“We had another run-in with Glory,” Spike admitted, describing the fight.

 

She was at a loss as to how a person killed a Hellgod, but she suspected that it was going to take more than mundane weapons and said as much. “Where you find a sword to kill a god, I don’t know, though.”

 

Spike rose from the table. “How are you at research?”

 

Quinn sighed. “Passable, but I’d really rather beat something up.”

 

He smiled. “Join the club. Unfortunately, with our best researchers gone, it looks like the burden is going to fall on us.” Spike saw her expression and said, “Look on the bright side, Watcher. Research generally means pizza.”

 

Quinn brightened at that; she was starving, and she had no problem with a free meal. Besides, the sooner they figured out what would kill a Hellgod, the sooner she could beat something up.


	25. Chapter 25

**“Because I do not hope to turn again/Because I do not hope/Because I do not hope to turn/Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope/I no longer strive to strive towards such things/(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)/Why should I mourn/The vanished power of the usual reign…Because I know that time is always time/And place is always and only place/And what is actual is actual only for one time/And only for one place/I rejoice that things are as they are and/I renounce the blessèd face/And renounce the voice/Because I cannot hope to turn again/Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something/Upon which to rejoice/And pray to God to have mercy on us…” ~T.S. Eliot, “Ash Wednesday”**

 

“We have a meeting set up,” Wesley confirmed. “In a few hours. We’ll have dinner with my parents, and I’ll try to find a way to get him alone.”

 

“Are you going to try convincing him that you want back in to the Council?” Spike asked.

 

“I don’t think that’s even a possibility.” Wesley rubbed his forehead wearily. “He’ll demand that I cut ties with you.”

 

“So tell him you will, tell him we had a fight.”

 

“He’s not going to believe me, Spike.”

 

“He will if you sell it.”

 

“Spike—”

 

Willow came up beside him and pulled the phone out of his hand. “Hey, Spike.”

 

Wesley couldn’t hear Spike’s response, and he collapsed on the bed. After telling Willow what his father had done to him, he hadn’t been able to sleep. It was like opening a door that he’d slammed shut and locked a long time ago.

 

When Willow hung up the phone, she turned to Wesley. “I’m going to arrange a meeting with your father myself,” she announced. “You’ll need to keep your mom entertained while we speak privately tonight.”

 

“What?” Wesley sat up straight. “Why?”

 

She ran a hand over his cheek. “Because your parents know you, and they’ll know if you’re lying. They don’t know me, and I don’t care what they think of me. You still do.”

 

He hated to admit it, but she was right. “And Tara?”

 

“She’ll back me up. Your dad won’t recognize her. I was thinking maybe we could convince him to meet us in the café downstairs, and when he gets woozy, we’ll invite him upstairs until it passes.”

 

“And why would he be woozy?

 

“Because either I’ll slip something in his tea, or Tara will cast a spell, whichever works better at the time.”

 

Wesley frowned. “So, you have your plan all set?”

 

“Do you have a better one?”

 

He put his head in his hands. “No.”

 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Wes. That’s why we’re here, to take some of the burden.”

 

“You have to carry my weight now?” Wesley asked, angry. “That bastard stole my childhood from me, and now he’s robbing me of my revenge?”

 

“This isn’t about revenge.”

 

“It is for me.” The confession felt as though it had been ripped out of his lips. “Bloody hell.”

 

Willow snaked an arm around his waist. “I knew that.”

 

“I can’t forgive him for what he did to me.”

 

“Neither can I.” Willow rose, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I need to get changed, and Tara’s going to be here in a few minutes.”

 

Wesley nodded, feeling helpless as he always did when faced with his father. He had hoped that this trip would alleviate that; by getting some of his own back, subjecting his father to a taste of his own medicine, he would be able to move on from that period of his life.

 

And yet he felt himself balking now, refusing to do what it took to make this plan work. Willow had to be the one to step up to the plate. The self-loathing rose up and nearly choked him. He was a coward, and his father had been right about him.

 

Wesley just wished that it was over and done, and he could put it all behind him.

 

~~~~~

 

“Here’s one,” Quinn announced, tossing a book on the “keep” pile. “Looks like there’s something in there about creating serious weaponry, anyway.”

 

Buffy sighed as she shut her book. “Nothing in that one. When was Willow going to call?”

 

“They know to call here, Buffy,” Spike said soothingly. “We just have to wait. They’re seven hours ahead.”

 

Buffy hated being patient at the best of times, and this wasn’t the best of times. “What if the truth spell doesn’t work? Or they get caught? We’re not there to back them up.”

 

“It had to happen sometime.” Spike’s total reasonableness was pissing her off. “Let’s focus on finding something that’s going to help us create a weapon to kill Glory. We have an appointment with Robert tomorrow.”

 

“I don’t like leaving town with Glory running around,” Buffy grumbled.

 

Quinn cleared her throat. “I’ll be here.”

 

Buffy winced. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I shouldn’t have—”

 

“I’m not a vampire, and I’m not a Slayer,” she said. “I get it.”

 

“No, really, I’m glad you’re sticking around. I wouldn’t have agreed to leave otherwise.” Buffy smiled, then slammed her book closed. “This isn’t working, Spike. We’re not going to find the solution here.”

 

Spike gave her a look that told Buffy he was nearly out of patience himself. “Then why don’t you take Quinn, and you can burn off some energy. I’ll stay here.”

 

She looked at Quinn, who shrugged. “Yeah, sure. More looking through books will probably make my head explode.”

 

They were out the door in five minutes, and Buffy heaved a huge sigh of relief. The books weren’t taking her mind off of her worry, but a trip to the mall might.

 

“We’re going shopping?” Quinn objected. “Shouldn’t we be doing something—productive?”

 

Buffy flashed her a grin. “This is productive. First, Mom and Giles are at work, Tommy is at daycare, and Dawn is at school. Second, I’ve caught a few enterprising vampires at the mall during daylight hours.”

 

“Both very fair points,” Quinn admitted. “And you need to get your mind off of things.”

 

“I do. I know it’s stupid, and Willow and the others are more than capable, it’s just—”

 

“You’re the Slayer, and you want to be where the action is. I get that.”

 

Buffy suddenly remembered that Quinn had been a Potential. “Do you wish it had been you and not your sister?”

 

Quinn blinked. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

 

“Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.” Buffy glanced over at her. “You have to know that I didn’t trust you.”

 

“But you do now?”

 

“You’ve proven yourself.” She smiled. “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

Quinn ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah, I do wish it had been me. Brynn wanted to be a vet, you know? She loves animals of all kinds, and she was already getting tired of the demon stuff.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Buffy murmured, remembering her initial reaction to Giles and his insistence that she had a duty to perform. “I had no idea about being the Slayer until Merrick showed up.”

 

“You didn’t have any training before you were Called?”

 

“I had no idea. One day, when I was fifteen, Merrick just shows up out of nowhere, tells me I’m the Slayer, and I have a destiny.” Buffy sniffed. “I hate destiny.”

 

“I don’t blame you.”

 

Buffy glanced at her. “How do you feel about shoes?”

 

Quinn raised a dark eyebrow, then smiled. “I have very positive feelings about shoes.”

 

~~~~~

 

Willow forced herself to eat as though nothing was wrong, as though she wasn’t nervous as all hell. She had to somehow convince Roger Wyndam-Pryce that she wasn’t content in Sunnydale, and that she thought it would be better for Wesley to go back to the Council.

 

She had never been good at lying, but Wesley needed her to do this.

 

Wesley was engaging his mother in conversation at the moment, making her laugh at some story he’d told. Willow had caught enough to know that he was spinning a story that had nothing to do with any touchy subjects, like Spike or Buffy.

 

“I wanted to talk to you,” she said to Roger in a low voice.

 

“About what?” He matched her tone, leaning in closer.

 

Willow schooled her expression into one of annoyance. “It’s about Wesley. I’m tired of him always rushing into danger, but he doesn’t think that he has another choice. If he could get his job back with the Council, I could get out of Sunnydale, and I could stop worrying about him. A researcher’s position, perhaps?”

 

Roger’s expression sharpened, and Willow could see the avarice in his eyes. “And what would you give me in exchange?”

 

“I think I know where Buffy put the Key.” Willow swallowed the bile that rose at the thought of betraying her friend. “I can tell you where it is.” She smiled. “But not here.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“There’s a café in the hotel. Shall we meet there at seven tomorrow morning?”

 

He nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

 

Willow met Wesley’s eyes across the table. He patted his mother’s hand. “I think we should be going. Willow had some sightseeing that she wanted to do tomorrow.”

 

She knew the signal for what it was. Willow still needed to work out the sleeping draught with Tara, the one that would go into Roger’s tea, and they needed to be sure they had both the truth spell and the spell of forgetting ready to go. If Tara hadn’t been able to find the Lethe’s bramble they needed, they would have to do a search themselves, after Wesley’s parents had gone.

 

And they still needed to call Spike and give him an update.

 

“I’m still jetlagged.” This wasn’t a lie, and she knew that she looked tired, which gave verisimilitude to her statement.

 

They said their goodbyes. Willow shook hands with Roger and kissed Rose on the cheek, feeling soft skin and noting faded blue eyes that probably been as bright as Wesley’s once upon a time. She kept the smile on her face steady with some effort as they welcomed her into the family with varying degrees of sincerity.

 

Something in Roger’s face told Willow that he was still suspicious of their motives, and might be expecting a trick. She would have to be very cautious at the meeting, but that was what Tara was there for—so she could have backup not easily recognizable by Roger.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara thought that she’d probably had the best deal of the three of them. While Willow and Wesley had been stuck meeting with those people Wesley had judged most interested in knowing he was engaged, she had been free to explore London. No one was supposed to know that she was there with the two of them, and so Wesley had given her some tips on the best places to go as a tourist, and Tara had spent two days exploring London.

 

A year ago, Tara wouldn’t have been brave enough to go by herself, never mind that she’d moved across the country to escape her family. That had been a move of desperation; this was pure pleasure.

 

She’d nearly worn her shoes out, traveling all over the city, seeing the sights that Wesley had recommended, collecting the ingredients they needed for the truth spell and memory spell.

 

And now she was going to head back to the hotel to soak in a hot bath with room service. Tara was loving this trip, but it was about to get a lot more serious.

 

When she opened her door, Willow was waiting for her, sitting on the single bed with her legs crossed and her laptop open in front of her. “How was dinner?” Tara asked, immediately concerned.

 

Willow shrugged. “It went as well as can be expected. I gave Wesley some of that tea to help him sleep. He was pretty wound up.”

 

Tara winced in sympathy. “Families can do that to you. Are we prepared for tomorrow?”

 

“We have an early meeting,” she confirmed. “I think that Roger might suspect something.”

 

Tara plopped down on the bed next to Willow, considering their options. “I’m assuming that you don’t want to call it off.”

 

“We can’t. We’re too far into it.”

 

Tara grabbed the tote bag with her mother’s books. There were a lot of spells she’d found in there that she hadn’t seen referenced anywhere else. “Here. I can do a spell to make him more receptive, more pliable. That will work better, I think, given what you’ve told me about him. From there, we get him upstairs and do the truth spell, then we do the memory spell.”

 

Willow raised her eyebrows. “Do you think we could maybe turn him into a toad when this is all over?”

 

“The Council would come looking for him,” Tara said practically. “This plan is only going to be successful if they don’t find out what we did.”

 

Willow let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Be practical.”

 

“Did Wes tell you about what his dad did to him?”

 

Hurt flashed across Willow’s face. “You knew?”

 

“I guessed,” Tara corrected her. “We talked about fathers long before mine actually showed up in Sunnydale, and he’s said a few other things that gave me a pretty good idea of what went on.”

 

“I knew it was bad,” Willow said quietly. “But not how bad. He shut Wesley in a closet. For _three days_.”

Their eyes met, and Tara put an arm around Willow’s shoulders. “It sucks to watch the people you love hurting.”

 

“Tomorrow isn’t going to be easy.”

 

Tara shook her head. “No, it won’t.”

 

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley paced the length of the room nervously. Whatever Willow had given him to help him sleep the night before had prevented the nightmares he’d expected after seeing his father. He hated that Willow was meeting with him alone, however, and he hated the fact that Tara was the one to play backup.

 

But if he went down to the café, it would give the game away.

 

Glancing at the clock, which read half past seven, Wesley ran through the plan in his head once again. Willow would meet with Roger to try and sell him on how much she wanted Wesley to get his position with the Council back because she wanted out of Sunnydale, and that she wanted him out of the line of fire. That story would fit nicely with his father’s vision of him as a bumbling idiot.

 

Once Willow had him on the hook, Tara would do her spell, and they would bring Roger upstairs, where he had the truth spell ready. It was a piece of cake, as Willow often said.

 

He just wanted this over with already.

 

A brief knock came on the door, and Wesley quickly opened it. “Come in.” Willow and Tara entered sideways, supporting Roger’s weight between them. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Your fiancée wants me to offer you a job,” Roger replied jovially. “A researcher’s position, which would suit you. You might not be good at much else, but you’re a competent researcher.”

 

Wesley winced at the backhanded compliment, thinking that it was possibly the nicest thing his father had ever said to him. “I don’t want a researcher’s position,” he replied, watching as Tara and Willow sat him down in one of the two straight-backed chairs in the room. “I’m happy in Sunnydale.”

 

“With that vampire?” Roger scoffed. “Fighting demons? You’re nothing more than a burden there, Wesley. It’s time to grow up.”

 

Tara spoke two quiet words that Wesley didn’t quite catch, and Roger slumped sideways. “I’m sorry, Wesley,” she said. “I should have performed the spell faster.”

 

“It’s not your fault.” He forced a smile. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” Wesley regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, as both Tara and Willow had identical pitying expressions.

 

Wesley grabbed the handcuffs to secure his father to the chair. “Never mind. What did you do to him?”

 

“We basically made him drunk,” Willow admitted. “We thought it would make him easier to deal with.

 

“Do you want one of us to do the truth spell?” Tara asked.

 

Wesley shook his head. “No. I want to do this.”

 

“He’s all yours,” Tara said. “I’ll wake him when you’re ready.”

 

He had performed a truth spell before, and while under more pressure—at least in theory. For the moment, Wesley tried to forget that he was facing his father.

 

The words came easily, and when the spell was in place, he nodded to Tara, and she took the sleep spell off. When Roger opened his eyes, Wesley could see that whatever magic Tara had worked to make his father more amiable was gone. Roger’s eyes were hot with a hatred Wesley had never seen aimed at him as his father tested his bonds.

 

“What have you done, Wesley?”

 

“I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine, _Dad_.” Wesley spat the word out. “Were you involved in putting the geas on Spike?”

 

“Yes.” The surprise showed on Roger’s face immediately after he answered the question. “ _What have you done_?”

 

“You have to tell the truth.” Wesley smiled cruelly. “And I’ve made it slightly easier for you.”

 

“Wesley—”

 

“What do you want with the Key?” Wesley asked before Roger could finish his question.

 

Roger glared impotently, and the realization that his father was at his mercy filled Wesley with a cold satisfaction. “There is power there. We want it.”

 

“Why? What can you do with it?”

 

“We can control worlds.”

 

“What do you mean by that?” Wesley pressed.

 

“The blood of the Key can open doors to other dimensions.”

 

“Do you want to expand your base of power?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Other organizations have done so.”

 

“Is there another reason?”

 

“We would no longer need the Slayer.”

 

That was the bombshell that Wesley had been waiting for. He knew that there had to be more to it than just power—the Council already had plenty of that. Wesley had been certain that the Council had a bigger goal.

 

“What is the Council without the Slayer?” It was a rhetorical question to which Wesley wasn’t expecting an answer.

 

Roger offered a thin smile. “We are free of the constraints training and shepherding headstrong brats require.”

 

Wesley swallowed his anger, seeing Willow and Tara do the same. “And the Knights?”

 

“A tool for our use.”

 

“To what end?”

 

“They will keep the Slayer busy, or find the Key for us.”

 

“And what other tools do you have in your arsenal?” Wesley asked.

 

Roger’s eyes glowed with an unholy fire. “We have sent our best fixers.”

 

Wesley glanced at Tara and Willow to see if they had any questions, but both women shook their heads. “Were you ever proud of me?” Wesley blurted out, unable to resist the urge to ask a question he’d had since he was very young.

 

“Not since the day you were born.”

 

Wesley felt the words as a blow, and he hissed out a breath. Tara whispered the words that would put Roger to sleep. “That’s enough.”

 

Willow put her arms around him, offering comfort, but Wesley felt numb, unreachable.

 

“Wesley—” she began.

 

He cut her off. “I don’t have a father.” Meeting Tara’s eyes with difficulty, he asked, “Can you handle the memory spell?”

 

“We’ll take care of it, Wesley,” she promised.

 

And he left the room, his only thought to get as far away as possible.


	26. Chapter 26

**“When I am glad I need your eyes/To be the stars of Paradise;/Your lips to be the seal of all/The joy life grants, and dreams recall;/Your hand, to lie my hands between/What time we walk the garden green./But most in grief I need your face/To lean to mine in the desert place;/Your lips to mock the evil years,/To sweeten me my cup of tears,/Your eyes to shine, in cloud’s despite,/Your hands to hold mine through the night.” ~E. Nesbit, “En Tout Cas”**

 

Spike kept his eyes on the road as Buffy answered the phone. “Hey, Willow. How did it go?”

 

He could hear Willow’s side of the conversation clearly, enough to know that although the spells had gone off without a hitch, and they had the information they needed, Wesley hadn’t come through unscathed.

 

Not that the news surprised him; Spike would have been a lot more surprised if Wesley had managed to get out of this situation without any new scars.

 

They’d been drunk together, had fought together, had watched each other’s backs. Spike _knew_ Wes, and he’d known what this trip was likely to cost him. Unfortunately, there really hadn’t been any other choice.

 

Buffy put the phone away and turned to Spike. “How much of that did you get?”

 

“All of it,” he replied. “They haven’t seen Wes since then?”

 

“No, but Willow didn’t sound too worried. What do you think?”

 

“I think he’ll show up when he’s good and ready.”

 

“How much do you know about what happened?”

 

“I know some.” Spike hesitated, then asked, “You remember last year? The haunted house that came to life?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you remember what Wesley’s fear was?”

 

Buffy winced. “I really wasn’t paying attention.”

 

“He thought he was locked in a closet.”

 

Spike could tell when the light dawned because Buffy let out an “Oh!” and winced. “Poor Wes.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Buffy looked outside the window. “We almost there?”

 

“Yeah, another fifteen minutes or so.”

 

“Do you really think that Robert can help us?”

 

Spike had wondered the same thing himself, and he wasn’t certain of the answer. “I think so, but it’s going to mean designating someone to get those at risk to Robert’s place. If they can make a clean getaway, Robert can keep them safe.”

 

“And who will that be?”

 

“I don’t know. We’ll have to talk about that.” Spike paused. “It’s all going to hinge on whether we can fool Glory and the Council into believing that nothing has changed. I’d rather not end up advertising the identity of the Key.”

 

“I guess that’s a decision we’ll have to make when we get to it.”

 

“Probably so.” Spike reached for her hand, and intertwined his fingers with Buffy’s in a silent show of support. After several days of looking for a way to kill Glory without any results, he knew that they were both discouraged.

 

He just hoped that Robert would be willing to help.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley walked the streets of London, feeling numb. He honestly had no idea what he’d expected when he’d asked his father that final question, but he’d hoped that most of his father’s disapproval had been a mask and not the truth.

 

That hope had been dashed.

 

The worst part for Wesley was knowing that in completely cutting ties with his father, he was also cutting ties with his mother. She had never been a strong presence in his life, but she’d smoothed his way when and where she could.

 

But she hadn’t protected him. The still, small voice reminded him of that essential truth. He had been locked in a closet for three days, and she hadn’t let him out. She had never gone against his father’s orders, even when it had been Wesley who paid.

 

And he had paid far too often.

 

His cell phone rang, and Wesley looked at the caller I.D., seeing Willow’s number. Hesitating for a moment, he put the phone back in his pocket. He had no desire to talk to anyone, not even Willow, right now. There were hours yet before they were scheduled to leave, and right now, he just wanted to keep walking.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy liked Robert; she had since the first time Spike had introduced them. The half-breed was unfailingly polite and helpful, and she knew that he cared about Spike. That was enough to make her like him.

 

She was a little suspicious when Robert appeared to respond to a question neither of them had asked. “You were quite right,” he said, as they seated themselves in the study. “I checked on the dates as you asked.”

 

“What dates?” Buffy asked suspiciously.

 

Robert hesitated, looking at Spike, who shrugged. “After I met Tara, I got to thinking. She reminded me a bit of someone, so I asked Robert to take a look at her. Birds of a feather, and all that.”

 

“You guys are related?” Buffy asked.

 

Robert responded tentatively. “There’s no proof.”

 

“But it’s a possibility.” Buffy watched him closely, and she could see his embarrassment. “Are you her father?”

 

Robert’s eyes widened. “No!”

 

Spike’s rich laughter filled the room. “Let’s just say that Robert’s clan has itchy feet.”

 

“So, you know who her father is?”

 

Robert shifted in his seat. “Perhaps. As I said, there is no proof.”

 

“Then what does it matter?”

 

“I know what she is,” Robert said simply. “And from what I understand, she has no other blood relatives who will claim her.”

 

“No blood relations, but she does have family.” Spike smiled. “I asked Robert to check into it, on the off chance I was right. Tara can do as much or as little with that information as she likes.”

 

“What about you?” Buffy challenged. “Now that you know, what will you do?”

 

Robert smiled gently. “We are of the same clan. More than that, we each belong to two worlds. I will give her whatever aid she will accept.”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “Fair enough. We’ll pass the message along. I guess we have to ask you to do us a favor.”

 

“Anything,” Robert said readily.

 

Spike’s face was grim. “You don’t know what we’re going to ask of you.”

 

Robert met Spike’s eyes fearlessly. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

Buffy couldn’t help but admire his loyalty. “We need a safe haven for my mom, my little brother, and my sister.”

 

Robert leaned back in his chair. “Two siblings? Spike told me that your mother was expecting a child, but two siblings?”

 

“My half-sister is a teenager,” Buffy explained. “My dad had a kid outside of marriage. She just showed up on my doorstep one day.”

 

It was so easy to tell the lie, perhaps because it wasn’t terribly far from the truth. From what her mother had told her, it could have easily happened just the way she’d said.

 

Robert gave her a sharp look, as though he didn’t believe her, but he asked no further questions. “Of course.”

 

“We’re up against a Hellgod.” Spike’s voice held a caution.

 

Robert snorted. “You come up with the most interesting enemies, Spike. It doesn’t matter, however. I will be happy to provide sanctuary.”

 

“Thank you.” Buffy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “We really appreciate that. There’s no reason for anyone to connect you with us, and we thought—”

 

“They would be safe here, if the worst was to happen.” Robert apparently didn’t need further information. “Please notify me if and when you require my services.”

 

It was a weight off of Buffy’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she said fervently. “We’ll let you know.”

 

“I’m assuming that neither of you will be accompanying them.”

 

Spike shook his head. “No. We’ll be sending a messenger.”

 

It suddenly occurred to Buffy just who they would send.

 

~~~~~

 

Xander knocked briefly on the Summers’ front door before entering. “Hello?”

 

“Hello, Xander,” Joyce said, coming towards him from the direction of the kitchen with Thomas in her arms. “Buffy should be here any minute. She said that they were held up. Would you hold him?”

 

He wasn’t given a chance to say no. Joyce deposited the infant in his arms without further discussion, and Xander—who had very little experience with babies—tried not to panic. “Uh…”

 

“Just walk with him?” Joyce asked, sounding harried. “I’m sorry to impose on you, but he’s hungry, and I need both hands right now.”

 

“Sure.” Xander settled the baby more securely in the crook of his arm, walking him back and forth through the living room. Thomas, who had begun to fuss as soon as Joyce had handed him over, settled a bit. To Xander, however, it looked as though Thomas was still thinking about screaming.

 

“You don’t want to scream at your Uncle Xander, do you?” he asked a little desperately. “Because I get that enough from Anya.”

 

Thomas screwed up his face to begin howling, and Xander bounced him a little as he walked, having remembered seeing Joyce do the same thing. That seemed to help, or at least to distract the baby enough so that he was no longer quite so unhappy.

 

After what seemed like hours, and was likely only a few minutes, Joyce came back into the room with a bottle in her hand. “Thank you, Xander. I’m a little frazzled today.”

 

He was a little afraid to ask, but good manners required it. “Is there anything I can do?”

 

“Not right now.” She took the baby from him and began to feed him with practiced movements. Thomas immediately began sucking greedily. “How are you?”

 

“Good.” Xander didn’t have much to add. His days weren’t terribly exciting, filled as they were with work and Anya and other daily chores. Although there was the occasional problem, compared to Hellgods and knights in not-so-shining armor, his struggles were terribly mundane.

 

“There is something you could do for me,” Joyce said hopefully. “One of the back steps is a little loose, and I’m afraid someone is going to get hurt. Would you mind looking at it?”

 

“Let me get my tools,” he replied cheerfully, not minding a bit. Maybe his skill set was mundane, but it was almost as useful as being able to kill demons, or so he frequently told himself.

 

Xander had just finished nailing the loose step back in place and was checking the other steps for problems when Buffy came out the backdoor. “Thanks for meeting me here, Xander.”

 

“No problem,” he replied cheerfully. “It’s been awhile.”

 

Buffy sat down on the top step. “I know. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.” He tucked the hammer into his tool belt and sat down next to her. “Things are busy right now. I get that.”

 

“I’m glad you do.”

 

Xander had known Buffy for a long time now, and he could see the worry in her eyes, the weariness in her posture. “Things okay between you and Spike?”

 

She nodded. “Yeah. We’re good, Xan.”

 

“Then what’s up? Because you look like the world is about to come crashing down.”

 

“It might.” Buffy was silent for a moment. “I need to ask you for a favor, but it’s huge, and I don’t want you to agree unless you’re sure you want to do it.”

 

“That sounds a little scary.”

 

“It is.” Buffy stared at her jeans-clad legs. “We still have Glory to worry about, and we don’t know how to kill her yet, the Knights of Byzantium aren’t going to stop coming, and now it looks like the Council is sending a hit squad, maybe to try and kill us.”

 

Xander couldn’t blame her for being worried. “What can I do, Buffy?”

 

She gave him a grateful look. “We made arrangements for Mom, Dawn, and Tommy to stay at Robert’s if necessary, but someone has to get them there.”

 

“And you want that someone to be me.”

 

“We know we can trust you,” Buffy replied quietly. “And someone has to stay to draw fire.”

 

Xander was all too aware of the implications rife in that statement. Drawing fire from any one of those sources would be scary, but all three at the same time? “Buffy—”

 

“We don’t have a choice,” she interrupted, anticipating his objection. “Trust me, Xander, if I thought vacating Sunnydale for a few months would work, I’d be the first to book the tickets.”

 

“My vote would be for Hawai’i.” Xander put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze. “Or maybe Mexico. I’ve heard it’s nice there.”

 

She let out a little laugh and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Thanks.”

 

“You tell me when, and give me directions, and I’ll take care of them, Buffster,” Xander promised. “It’s the least I can do.”

 

~~~~~

 

Willow had never been so grateful to be back on the Hellmouth. Granted, they still had a Hellgod to deal with, and Knights, not to mention the probable appearance of Council bad guys, but she had hoped that being home would cheer Wesley up.

 

She spotted Spike standing by the baggage claim and waved. He lifted a hand in return, his blue eyes giving each of them a once-over. Willow could see by the set of his mouth that he was just as worried about Wesley as she was, but he offered nothing more than the standard greetings.

 

“Let’s get out of here before we catch you up,” he said. “Quinn and the others are meeting at our place tonight, and we’ll fill everyone in.” Spike took Tara and Willow’s bags, letting Wesley handle his own. “And by the way, Wes, Robert says hi.”

 

“When did you see him?” Wesley asked.

 

“Couple of days ago.” His look was sharp. “You’d have known if you’d called.”

 

“Willow checked in.”

 

Willow thought that Wesley sounded like a sulky boy, but she just glanced over at Tara, who moved her shoulders in a subtle shrug.

 

“She did,” Spike replied equably. “Oh, and Tara, think we’ve got some news for you, too.”

 

“From Robert?”

 

“He confirmed something I suspected. We can talk about it later.”

 

It was the sort of comment that normally would have made Wesley’s ears perk up, but he was clearly lost in thought, trapped in his own misery. Willow sympathized, but she really wanted to shake him out of it.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow and met Willow’s eyes, and she shook her head, silently letting him know that this was nothing new for Wesley, at least nothing new in the last few days.

 

Willow was really beginning to regret not turning Roger Wyndam-Pryce into a toad. She wasn’t sure that it would have been helpful in the long run, but it definitely would have made her feel better.


	27. Chapter 27

**“Let the world’s sharpness, like a clasping knife,/Shut in upon itself and do no harm/In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm,/And let us hear no sound of human strife/After the click of the shutting. Life to life—/I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,/And feel as safe as guarded by a charm/Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife/Are weak to injure…” ~Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “Sonnet 24”**

 

Spike had never been one for to-do lists. He tended to keep information in his head; Wesley was the one who made extensive plans and checklists. It was one of the reasons they made such good partners.

 

But if Spike had been one for making lists, at the top would be dealing with the fallout from Wesley’s recent trip to squeeze information out of his father. They literally had enemies coming at them from all sides, and he needed Wesley to be at the top of his game. That meant there was no time for tenderness.

 

“Hey, Red.” Spike tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear. “You heard from Wes today?”

 

“He’s not answering his phone,” Willow replied glumly. “I thought about going over there, but I don’t know. Maybe he needs time.”

 

Spike snorted. “I’d let him wallow all he wants, but we don’t have time for him to mope around.”

 

There was a moment of silence. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to get him drunk, and then I’m going to kick his ass if needed.”

 

“Do you need help?”

 

Spike smiled. “I may need you for the clean up.”

 

“Just let me know when.”

 

“You got it.”

 

Spike had thought that she needed fair warning, since he had no idea what sort of a fight Wesley was going to put up.

 

He had a key to the ex-Watcher’s place, not that he needed it. When Spike arrived, he let himself in without bothering to knock, and he immediately smelled the alcohol. It looked like he didn’t need to get Wesley drunk for this.

 

“What are you doing here, Spike?”

 

“I came to talk some sense into you.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Wesley was anything but fine, as Spike had no trouble seeing. The man was leaning against the doorjamb in his kitchen, eyes red and skin pale. He looked sick and tired, and Spike wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that Wesley hadn’t slept in the last three days.

 

“Pour me a drink,” Spike ordered, knowing that he had been Wesley’s employer long enough that he would most likely do as he was asked.

 

Wesley glared at him. “Spike—”

 

“You can pour me a drink, and we’ll have a nice, civilized discussion, or I can knock you out, tie you up, and you can listen to me talk.”

 

“Sod off.”

 

“You first.”

 

Spike kept his eyes fixed on Wesley’s until the other man looked away and filled a glass with whiskey without a word. “No bourbon?”

 

“I ran out.”

 

That would explain a lot, Spike thought, taking in his rumpled appearance and haggard demeanor. Much worse, he thought, was the sense of futility and failure that hung in the room. Spike had seen Wesley like this before, when he had been fired from the Council, but there was a darker undercurrent now.

 

“Your father never beat you,” Spike began, telling Wesley the story of his own life.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Your father never touched you at all, and you got the sense that touching you was beneath him, whether it was in anger or praise.” Wesley kept his silence, his jaw clenching tightly, knuckles white as he gripped the glass in his hand. “Instead he used his words, and somehow that was worse, because you might have been able to believe that he was wrong for hurting you.”

 

“Shut. Up.”

 

“The first time he locked you in the closet, you pounded on the door, and no one let you out. There wasn’t any light, and you could hear the rats in the walls. When he finally opened the door, he could see you’d been crying, and that meant another 6 hours in the darkness. He said that you were soft.”

 

Spike barely had time to duck the glass Wesley threw. The man had a wicked aim, and while Spike was distracted by the missile, Wesley grabbed his jacket, slamming him into the wall. The fist split his lip, but Spike made no move to defend himself. He was still wearing the ring, and he could take whatever punishment Wesley needed to dish out.

 

Spike could see the raw need in the other man’s eyes, the desire to take his pain out on someone or something else, and Spike knew he was the safest bet. Wesley slammed him up against the wall again. “How do you know all of that?”

 

“You told me.”

 

The fight seemed to drain out of Wesley, and his hands dropped to his sides. “I don’t remember.”

 

“You were three sheets to the wind at the time, and I didn’t see the need to bring it up again.” Spike shrugged. “And some of it I picked up over the last couple of years.” When Wesley didn’t reply, Spike asked, “What about this was a surprise, Wes? That your father is a bastard? That he doesn’t love you? That he’s not proud of you? That all he ever wanted was a son he could use to further his own position with the Council?”

 

Spike saw the questions fall like blows, and he was sorry for it, but in this case he thought it best not to sugarcoat the truth. “No, it wasn’t a surprise,” Wesley finally admitted in a low voice.

 

“Good, because you’re smarter than that, and you’re better than that.” Now Spike seized him by the shoulders, reversing their positions, pushing Wesley against the wall, although not so hard that it would hurt. “I’m going to say this once, and once only. I have _never_ , in a century and a half, had a partner. I’ve never had a friend.”

 

Spike stepped back. “And I do now. That should mean something.”

 

He could see Wesley’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, hear the harsh breath he took in. “It means a lot.”

 

And when the other man looked up, Spike saw raw fire in his eyes. “I want to take them down,” Wesley said.

 

Spike smiled. “Then we will.”

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face when she spotted Tara across the quad. She had chosen to continue taking classes; it made sense to keep her cover in place at least for Travers.

 

And she was beginning to enjoy taking classes in subjects she didn’t have much experience with, if only because it gave her something to do, and gave her a reason to see Tara on a regular basis.

 

“Hey!”

 

Tara turned when she heard Quinn call out, and her answering smile warmed Quinn to no end. “Quinn. It’s been too long.”

 

“It has been.” If Quinn were more certain of their relationship, she would have kissed Tara right there in the quad, in front of God and everybody, but she had no idea how the other woman felt about such public displays. “It’s good to see you.”

 

They stood there, staring at one another, until Tara let out a little laugh and leaned in for a brief, chaste kiss on Quinn’s lips. “Do you have time for a coffee?”

 

Quinn thought about her next class and shrugged, deciding that she could blow it off. “Absolutely.”

 

They spoke of inconsequential things at first, as though testing the waters. “How was England?” Quinn finally asked.

 

She saw Tara’s hesitation, and the other woman finally replied, “I loved it, and we—we got the answers we wanted.”

 

“Did something happen?”

 

“What do you know about Roger Wyndam-Pryce?”

 

Quinn thought the question was a little odd, but she gave the question serious consideration. “He’s a company man through and through, and he’s a bit of a hardass. Why?”

 

“Wesley and his father—”

 

“Ah.” Quinn grimaced. “I could see that. I got the feeling that Roger had already disowned him.”

 

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t able to get a few shots in.”

 

Quinn’s sympathy intensified. She had some idea of how lucky she was with her own family—parents who offered unconditional love and support, a sister who might be a pest but with whom she got along.

 

“Will he be alright?”

 

“I think so. Spike’s going to try to get through to him, and if he can’t, I’m not sure anyone can.”

 

“Is there anything I should know about?” Quinn inquired.

 

“The Council is sending their finest.”

 

Quinn took a deep breath, knowing what was coming next. “Travers hasn’t told me.”

 

“What does that mean?” Tara asked.

 

“I don’t know, but nothing good.”

 

~~~~~

 

Giles paced back and forth across Spike’s living room, Tommy strapped to his chest. Although he was supposed to be helping the others research, the baby was having none of it, and Giles had promised Joyce an evening off.

 

After all, she was generally the one to get up with him in the middle of the night.

 

“What have we found?”

 

“Nothing concrete,” Spike admitted. “There are a few mentions of weapons that might be powerful enough to kill a Hellgod, but most of those are assumed to be mythological.”

 

Giles didn’t like the sound of that. They had enemies bearing down on all sides, and very little notion of what to do.

 

“There are mentions in the prophecy about the Guardian’s flaming sword,” Wesley offered. “Perhaps that will help.”

 

“That only helps if we find the sword,” Buffy objected. “No offense, Wes, but flaming swords don’t just fall from the sky.”

 

Wes shifted uncomfortably. “I realize it’s not much help, but—”

 

“It’s more than we had before,” Spike interrupted. “So, we find a flaming sword, and I use it to kill Glory. It’s a start.”

 

“We have a plan to get Mom, Thomas, and Dawn out of town if necessary,” Buffy said.

 

“Where is Dawn?” Willow asked.

 

“Studying at a friend’s house,” Buffy replied. “We’ll pick her up on the way home before patrolling.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” Quinn asked.

 

Spike shook his head. “Keep up the pretense with Travers as long as you can. It may be that he already knows or suspects, so keep a sharp watch out. We stick together as much as we can until this is over.”

 

“Do you think that they’ll come after us? The Council goons?” Willow asked.

 

“Unlikely,” Quinn interjected. “If they come after anyone, it’s going to be Buffy, Spike, and me, maybe Wesley.”

 

“Great,” Willow muttered. “And what about Glory and the Knights?”

 

“No contact.” Spike’s grim expression made it clear that he was serious. “You see Glory or the Knights, you run the other way. Same for the Council goons if you see them.”

 

“Spike.” Giles cleared his throat tentatively. “Perhaps we need another plan.”

 

“What sort of plan?”

 

“There are three groups of people who know you have the Key. Perhaps you could plant information that would indicate that it’s someone else.”

 

“You’re talking bait,” Buffy said flatly. “Who would volunteer for that?”

 

“I would,” Quinn offered, “but no one would believe it.”

 

“They might believe it if it’s me,” Tara said quietly.

 

There was an explosion of sound as everyone began talking at once, but Giles regarded Tara dispassionately, thinking about the possibility. It wasn’t a perfect solution; the Council and the Knights would likely believe that it was Tommy first. He was, after all, brand new.

 

Then again, he was a perfectly normal infant, who had been conceived and born in a perfectly normal way. Tara hadn’t been in Sunnydale so long that her being the Key was out of the realm of possibility, and her demon blood made her just a little bit magical.

 

If they could convince everyone she was magical…

 

“There is no sense arguing over it now,” Giles said, interrupting the discussion. “We certainly can’t make a move until we have a way to kill Glory. Until then, the best we can do is to go about our lives.”

 

The furor subsided, and an uneasy silence reigned. Giles smiled. It appeared that he still had his Watcher mojo, as Buffy might say.

 

And it felt good. Parenting was such new territory for him that it felt good to be on familiar ground.

 

His hand curled protectively around Tommy’s back. Giles just hoped that it was a long time before this life touched his son.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara stayed back after the meeting. Although she’d returned to Sunnydale a few days before, and had been wildly curious as to what Buffy and Spike had discovered from Robert, there had simply been no time to deal with it.

 

This semester looked to be a busy one for her, and for the others who were going to college, so she’d wanted some time to decompress, and she’d relished all of the time spent with Quinn.

 

“What did Robert have to say?” she asked after everyone else had left. Tara didn’t necessarily want any secrets, but she did want a chance to digest the news, whether good or bad.

 

Buffy and Spike looked at each other, communicating silently. “He thinks you might be related,” Spike said without preamble.

 

Tara blinked, and the light dawned. “That’s why you thought I should meet him.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I thought you might be trying to set me up!”

 

“I thought about it,” Spike admitted candidly. “He’s a good man. But I knew you didn’t swing that way, and I thought that if my instincts were correct, you might end up dating your half-brother.”

 

Tara felt as though her breath had been stolen from her lungs. “Is he—is he sure?”

 

“He’s certain you’re from the same clan,” Buffy inserted, shooting a glare at Spike. “And not much else. Robert thought he might be able to get confirmation, though, if you want it.”

 

If she wanted it? Part of Tara desperately wanted to know for certain, and if the demon had known her mother—perhaps had cared for her—she wanted to know about that part of her mother that had remained hidden for so many years.

 

And if the news was bad? If her mother hadn’t been willing—

 

As though sensing where her thoughts were going, Spike reached out and put a gentle hand on her wrist. “I know Robert’s people, Tara. There are bad eggs in the bunch, sure, but they’re a good sort—just a bit footloose, is all.”

 

“If someone knew my mother,” Tara began. She drew in a deep breath. “I want to know.”

 

“I’ll let Robert know,” Spike assured her.

 

Buffy cleared her throat. “Robert also said that he’d help you however you need.”

 

Tara thought about it. “Do you think he’d know how to make me look like a magical Key?”

 

“Tara—”

 

She cut Buffy off. “It’s worth looking into. It makes sense to have more than one plan.”

 

“We’ll consider it.” Spike’s words weren’t much of a promise. Tara could hear in his voice that he was none too thrilled with the idea, but she thought that it might provide the best alternative.

 

Tara didn’t mind being bait, not when she knew who was backing her up.

 

~~~~~

 

“Are you going to the Sadie Hawkins dance?” Lisa asked.

 

Dawn had been dreading the question, knowing that it was going to come up eventually during their study session. After all, the dance was mere weeks away. “Probably not,” she hedged. “There isn’t anyone I’d want to ask.”

 

Ally was quick to commiserate. “No kidding. Most of the boys in our grade are _losers_.”

 

Lisa appeared torn. “Kyle is nice.” She glanced at Dawn. “I think he likes you.”

 

Dawn could feel herself flush a bit. While the idea that there was a boy who liked her gave Dawn a small thrill, she knew there was no way she could handle a relationship right now. She wasn’t even sure what she _was_. “I doubt it.”

 

The ringing of the doorbell saved her from having to say more. “That’s my sister. I’d better go.”

 

“Maybe we could do something, just the three of us, that night,” Ally suggested. “The dance is probably going to be lame.”

 

“That would be fun.” Dawn escaped then. As much as she appreciated having friends—and she did—it made things more difficult in a way. There were explanations to give, secrets to keep, and information to avoid sharing.

 

Dawn slid into the backseat of Spike’s Mustang with practiced ease, putting her book bag on the floor between her feet. “Hey.”

 

“How was studying?” Buffy asked, twisting in her seat. “Did you get a lot done?”

 

“Yeah.” Dawn knew she should probably say more, put their worries to rest, but she couldn’t find the words. “It was fun.”

 

“Something worrying you, Bit?”

 

She sighed. Sometimes she wished that Spike couldn’t read people so well, and Dawn shared a sympathetic look with Buffy, knowing that her sister often felt the same way. “No, not really.”

 

Something occurred to her. “Can I ask a question?”

 

“Of course,” Spike said, negotiating a corner without trouble. “What’s up?”

 

“If I died, wouldn’t that make things easier? I mean, Glory wouldn’t be able to use me to end the world, right?” Dawn could feel the silence; it was almost a tangible thing, and she hastened to add, “I’m not going to kill myself.”

 

“Good.” Buffy gave her the evil eye. “Because if you tried, I’d have to kick your ass.”

 

Dawn felt a surge of warmth; that was something a real big sister would say. “I was just curious.”

 

“We don’t know, Dawn,” Spike said, sounding infinitely tired. “But I would wager that it would make things worse, not better. The monks chose to hide the Key from Glory, so it would make sense that if you were in another form, she’d still try and get to you.”

 

“What if she does?”

 

“That’s not going to happen,” Buffy said firmly.

 

“You don’t know that,” Dawn objected.

 

“It’s not going to happen.” Spike’s tone left no room for argument, and Dawn slumped in the back seat. She knew that Spike and Buffy would do their best, but she also knew that sometimes your best wasn’t good enough.


	28. Chapter 28

**“My spirit is too weak; mortality/weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,/And each imagined pinnacle and steep/of godlike hardship tells me I must die/Like a sick eagle looking at the sky./Yet ‘tis a gentle luxury to weep,/That I have not the cloudy winds to keep/Fresh for the opening of the morning’s eye./Such dim-conceived glories of the brain/ Bring round the heart an indescribable feud;/So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,/That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude/Wasting of old Time—with a billowy main,/A sun, a shadow of a magnitude.” ~John Keats, “On Seeing the Elgin Marbles for the First Time”**

 

Quinn rubbed her eyes sleepily as she stumbled to her front door. The knocking had woken her from a nap; she’d been out with Buffy and Spike late the night before, trying to find where the Knights were hiding out.

 

One glance through the peephole had her flinging the door open, however. “Dad?”

 

Oscar dropped his bag on the floor and pulled her into his arms for a tight hug. “Quinn.”

 

Quinn was beginning to get worried. “Dad, what’s going on?”

 

“I got a call this morning. Travers is putting an order out for your death.”

 

She blinked, somehow unsurprised. “You’d better come in.”

 

“One of our friends called. Although most are uncomfortable with the order, they’ve been persuaded that it’s for the best.”

 

Quinn shook her head. “Killing one of your own is for the best? Bloody hell.”

 

“This is why my friend called. He understood how very wrong this all is.” Oscar tossed his bag onto the couch. “And that’s why I’m here.”

 

“What about Brynn and Mum?” Quinn asked.

 

“There’s still a Hellmouth in Cleveland,” Oscar replied. “And your mother and sister are more than competent. I’m here to back you up.”

 

“You’re signing your own death warrant,” Quinn objected. “You know they won’t hesitate to kill you as well if you get in the way!”

 

Oscar seized her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Stupid girl. Do you really think I’d allow them to threaten my daughter while I stand idly by?”

 

“Dad…”

 

“I must insist.”

 

Quinn knew better than to argue with her father when he was like that. “Fine. But you’re taking the couch.”

 

“Of course.”

 

She couldn’t resist flinging her arms around him again, feeling safe for the first time in weeks, even if she knew it was a lie. Quinn had learned a long time ago that her father couldn’t protect her from everything, but she at least knew that he had her back.

 

~~~~~

 

“Wes, get some sleep.”

 

He glanced up to see Spike standing in front of him. “I’m fine.”

 

“You’re far from it. You’ve been staring at those books so long you’re likely to go blind.”

 

“I ordered some new texts that might be helpful. One of them refers to the Guardian’s reward.” Wesley was attempting to change the subject, although he was none too sure that he would be successful at it.

 

“What sort of reward?” From the expression on Spike’s face, Wesley knew he was being humored.

 

“To ‘live until you die,’ to _shanshu_ ,” Wesley replied.

 

Spike frowned. “To become human?”

 

“I’m not sure that’s accurate; ‘mortal’ would be the better term, I think. There’s no indication that you would lose your demon.” Wesley leaned back in his chair.

 

“So, you’re saying that if I do my job right, I’ll become mortal.” Spike sat down across from him, running a hand through his hair, mussing it further. It wasn’t often that the vampire looked tired, but he was clearly running on empty.

 

They all were, Wesley thought.

 

“That seems to be the implication, although there’s no real guarantee.” He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know, Spike. I keep looking for clues regarding this flaming sword, and all I come up with are more questions.”

 

“You’re trying, and that’s enough.” Spike’s gaze went sharp. “Go home, Wes. Leave the books here, and go home and see your girl.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not avoiding her, are you?”

 

“No!” Wesley responded too quickly. He sighed. “We’ve both been busy.”

 

“Wes…”

 

“What the hell am I supposed to say to her, Spike?”

 

“What do you want to say to her?” was Spike’s rejoinder.

 

“She knows now. She knows how weak I am.”

 

That was his shame, but Spike already knew. Spike had told him the story of his own life.

 

The roll of the eyes wasn’t unexpected. Spike had never been one to mollycoddle him. “Wes, how old were you the first time your father locked you in the closet?”

 

“Six,” he said shortly, not wanting to dredge this up yet again.

 

“And how old were you the last time it happened?”

 

“Thirteen.” Wesley took a deep breath. “Just before I hit my growth spurt. I was a bit of a runt before then.”

 

“And you aren’t now.” Spike put a hand on his shoulder. “Go home to your girl, Wes. Red loves you, and trust me. Now that she knows? You can milk this for all kinds of sympathy.”

 

Wesley thought about that as he rode his bike home. Spike was probably right, but he didn’t want her pity. The last thing he wanted was her pity.

 

Trudging up to his apartment, Wesley opened the door to see Willow sitting on the couch. “Hey. What’s up?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

 

“Quinn’s dad is in town,” she replied. “The Council put a price on her head. It’s only a matter of time before they come after her.”

 

“Where is she now?”

 

“She’s with Tara and her dad. Mr. O’Mara wanted to meet Tara, since she and Quinn are pretty much an item.”

 

“That’s good.” Wesley shoved his hands in his pockets, at a loss. “It’s good to see you. It’s been awhile.”

 

“Wesley.” Willow stood, smoothing down her skirt. “Are you angry? With me?”

 

“No!” he said quickly. “Not at all. If anything, I’m angry at myself.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For letting you down.”

 

“How did you let me down?”

 

“My father, I couldn’t—”

 

When he broke off, she burst out, “You idiot!” Wesley was too surprised to even attempt a response. “I _love_ you! I don’t care what he did to you, except to the extent that I care about you. If it had been an option, I would have turned him into a toad and then shut him up somewhere.”

 

“Willow—”

 

“I _love_ you.”

 

“I love you, too,” he finally said.

 

“Then that’s all that matters.” Willow rushed forward, pulling him close and planting a fierce kiss on his lips. “That’s all that matters.”

 

“Yes,” he agreed. When she responded like that, he had no choice but to believe her.

 

~~~~~

 

At this point, Xander knew that they were just trying to buy time, trying to stay out of the way of the Knights, trying not to come into contact with Glory, trying to keep an eye out for the Council goons… There were too many variables, too many enemies.

 

And Xander knew this because he and Anya had been called in. Every hand was needed, and he was one of them.

 

“Thanks for coming, Xan. I know you’re busy.” Buffy looked worried and run down, and Xander wished he could take some of the weight off her shoulders.

 

“I’m never too busy for you, Buff.”

 

“You should say that you’re never too busy for me,” Anya muttered behind him.

 

Xander opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by Spike. “I doubt you want the world to end, ducks. Then where would all that lovely cash go?”

 

“Good point,” Anya said after a moment’s consideration. “You’re quite right.”

 

Xander shared a look with Spike, the sort of look men share when they’re trying to manage women. “Thanks,” he mouthed.

 

Spike shrugged, as though to brush it off.

 

Xander glanced around the bookstore. “So, what was so urgent?”

 

“We need to find out everything we can about the Knights and a weapon that will kill Glory. We need all hands on deck for this one. The more eyes we have on the books, the faster we’ll find answers. Quinn is supposed to show up later with her father.”

 

“Her dad’s in town?” Xander asked.

 

Spike raised his eyebrows. “If you had a daughter who had a death sentence on her head, what would you do?”

 

“Quinn?” Xander grimaced. “That sucks.”

 

“That’s one way to put it.” Spike sat down at the table and shoved a stack of books towards them. “Start flipping pages.”

 

Xander would have preferred to help some other way, but he was happy to be included. “Where are Wesley and Willow?”

 

“Sleeping.” Spike shrugged. “They’ve been researching nonstop for nearly 48 hours. We needed a relief team.”

 

“Nice to know we’re the second string,” Xander commented, wondering if he could get a rise out of Spike.

 

Spike glared. “Second string is still important.”

 

Xander held up his hands in surrender, recognizing a short temper when he saw one. “Absolutely. You always need a relief pitcher.”

 

“Just keep researching,” Spike said, sounding cranky.

 

Buffy laid an arm on his shoulder. “Spike, easy. Maybe you should go home. Get some rest.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Spike.”

 

Xander watched with interest as their eyes met, and Spike was the first to look away. “Yeah, but you, too.”

 

“Okay.” Buffy smiled at him. “Thanks for giving us a hand, Xander. I know research isn’t the most fun thing.”

 

“I’m happy to help.”

 

Xander watched Buffy and Spike leave, wondering how long they could keep this up. He just hoped they could evade the bad guys for long enough to do some good.

 

~~~~~

 

Joyce thought she might finally get some breathing room. Thomas was coming close to sleeping through the night, Dawn was doing well in school and staying out of trouble, and spring had finally arrived after what had seemed like an endless winter.

 

She picked up Thomas from daycare and strapped him into his car seat, enjoying the simple, homely routine of it. Joyce had done this with Buffy, too. When she turned, however, she saw the man standing next to the car. He was huge and intimidating, and Joyce thought of the mace she had in her purse, which was already sitting in the passenger seat.

 

“Where is the Key?” he asked, taking a step closer.

 

Her heart in her throat, Joyce choked her answer out through her fear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“I don’t wish to harm the babe, but I will kill him if you do not tell me what I want to know. Where is the Key?”

 

Joyce stood between Thomas and the stranger. In a split second, she took in his ill-fitting street clothes, the tattoo on his forehead, and his narrowed eyes. She had no doubt that he was serious, and she had no idea how to respond. She couldn’t give Dawn up to this man, and yet she couldn’t risk her son’s life.

 

“Mrs. Giles!”

 

Joyce looked around the man, seeing the daycare manager hurrying towards her. She glanced at the man and saw the indecision on his face. “Remember what I said,” he murmured, striding away.

 

She didn’t see how she could forget it.

 

Courtney, the manager, hurried to her side. “Are you okay, Mrs. Giles? I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but—”

 

“Thank you, Courtney, I’m fine. He was…” She trailed off, not knowing how much to say. “I think he was disturbed.”

 

“Maybe I should call the police?”

 

Joyce shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll let my husband know what happened, and if necessary, we’ll make a police report.”

 

Courtney didn’t appear convinced, but Joyce wasn’t inclined to give more information, or to discuss the situation. Such a discussion would inevitably lead to gossip, and there was no need for that.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike could tell that Buffy was absolutely livid, and he couldn’t blame her. If there was one universal rule, it was that no one messed with those the Slayer cared about.

 

“I want them dead.” She snarled the words, and Spike raised an eyebrow, impressed with her ferocity. “I am going to hunt down every single Knight, and I’m going to kill them. Slowly.”

 

“Buffy—” Joyce began.

 

“No, she’s quite right,” Giles interrupted with deceptive mildness. “If the Knights of Byzantium are willing to terrorize women and kill infants, then we should show no mercy.”

 

Spike cleared his throat. “Do we go to plan B?”

 

“What’s plan B?” Joyce asked. When she was answered by silence, her frown deepened. “I assume this refers to getting me out of the way.”

 

“It refers to keeping you safe,” Giles said with pardonable asperity.

 

“Rupert—”

 

“Joyce.” Spike sometimes felt as though he was the only adult around. “You can’t blame Rupert for wanting to protect you and Thomas. If you were in his position, you would do the same.”

 

She looked upset, but nodded. “Fine. But I won’t be shuffled around.”

 

“Of course not.” Spike glanced at Buffy. “I don’t think it’s going to be necessary to get anyone out of town.”

 

“What are we going to do?” Joyce asked.

 

Buffy sighed. “I hate to say it, Mom, but I think you’re going to have to avoid going anywhere alone.”

 

Joyce echoed her sigh. “Fine. I don’t really want that man to catch me alone.”

 

“We’ll do what we can to make sure they don’t catch you alone.” Spike ran a hand through his hair. “What we need is a decoy.”

 

“And what kind of a decoy are we going to get?” Buffy demanded. “They know who I am, they know I have the Key, they’ve identified my family. It makes sense that they would have already identified my friends. There are too many of them.”

 

Spike knew that she was close to breaking, and he understood. Buffy could take a lot, and she could deal with all kinds of supernatural threats—as long as they were threats to _her_. This was hitting too close to home.

 

“We need to start turning them on each other,” Spike said. “We need to get rid of them one by one.”

 

“The Knights and Glory are going to be the toughest.” Buffy continued her pacing across the living room. “We still don’t know how to kill Glory, and the Knights just keep coming.”

 

“And we’ll keep killing them,” Spike said evenly. “We took on the Initiative last year and won. This is no worse.”

 

When everyone looked at him in patent disbelief, Spike shrugged. “It’s true. Just because Glory is a Hellgod doesn’t mean she can’t be killed. That’s my job, innit?”

 

A slow smile formed on Buffy’s face. “Okay. You’re right. Mom—”

 

“I’ll avoid going out alone,” Joyce promised. “I don’t want to put Thomas or Dawn in danger.”

 

Buffy sighed. “I think it might only be a matter of time until they start figuring it out. Dawn and Tommy are the only new additions.”

 

“We’ll hold them off for as long as we can,” Spike said. “It’s all we can do.”


	29. Chapter 29

**“My heart is tuned to sorrow, and the strings/Vibrate most readily to minor chords,/Searching and sad; my mind is stuffed with words/Which voice the passion and the ache of things:/Illusions beating with their baffled wings/Against the walls of circumstance, and hoards/Of torn desires, broken joys; records/Of all a bruised life’s maimed imaginings./Now you are come! You tremble like a star/Poised where, behind earth’s rim, the sun has set./Your voice has sung across my heart, but numb/And mute, I have no tone to answer. Far/Within I kneel before you, speechless yet,/And life ablaze with beauty, I am dumb.” ~Amy Lowell, “Frankincense and Myrrh**

 

Dawn flipped a page in the enormous book someone had brought to the research party. From the conversations she’d overheard, Dawn knew that Quinn had told Tara about the book of tales that had been collected about Spike, and Tara had told Willow, who had told both Wesley and Buffy, and pretty soon everyone had wanted to read it.

 

Now, it was getting passed around, much to Spike’s embarrassment, and as soon as the group’s attention was elsewhere, Dawn had grabbed it for herself.

 

She wasn’t supposed to be there, of course, nor was she supposed to be listening to the discussion of how best to avoid and/or kill the bad guys, but they were generally on lockdown. Dawn wasn’t allowed to go anywhere alone, and if Joyce hadn’t been under the same restriction, she probably would have put up more of a fuss.

 

Joyce was at the gallery, however, with Thomas, Quinn, and Oscar O’Mara, who had been taking turns guarding Dawn and Joyce. Dawn, who was on spring break, had been relegated to tagging along with either Buffy or Spike, depending on who was least busy at that moment.

 

With her spring break projects completed, and rather boring talk of strategies and meetings and possible spell ingredients, however, Dawn had seized on her chance to find out more about Spike’s past. It was kind of like reading about Robin Hood—but better, because Spike was _her_ guardian, and he was sitting right there in his living room.

 

“You sure you want to come with us, Tara?” Spike was asking, and Dawn glanced up from the book, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that she was actually paying attention now. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

 

“No, I’d like to talk to Robert about finding my real father,” Tara said firmly. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about it.”

 

“That you have, but—”

 

“Stop worrying about me, Spike.” Dawn could tell that Tara was torn between amusement and annoyance, and she understood that feeling completely. Spike was often worried over her, but unlike Tara, she didn’t have the luxury of telling him to not worry and mind his own business.

 

Spike took the rebuke graciously enough, shrugging and moving onto the next subject. “Assuming that this weapon Robert has found is something that will actually work against a Hellgod,” he continued, “we’ll still need to find a way to lure Glory into a trap.”

 

Tara cleared her throat. “I still think—”

 

“No.” Buffy was the one to speak. “We are not using anyone for bait. We’ll find another way.”

 

Willow spoke up. “I think we’ve found a spell that will make it look like a physical object is the repository of great energy, like a mystical Key, but they know it’s a person.”

 

“We’ll have to make them think that the prophecy is wrong then,” Buffy said stubbornly.

 

Wesley suddenly sat up straight. “Not necessarily. As long as they believe that we’re going to great pains to hide something, that may be enough to draw the Knights and the Council out of hiding. We’ve seen that they prefer to attack when they believe they have the upper hand.”

 

“What about Glory?” Buffy asked, her interest clearly piqued.

 

Wesley shook his head. “Who knows how we gain her attention? I suspect, however, that if both the Council and the Knights make a show of force, she may be inclined to join in to preserve her interests.”

 

Spike’s eyes narrowed in thought. “So, we find something to hide, make a big show of it without letting on that it’s nothing special, and wait for them to take the bait.”

 

“We could tip our hands,” Willow suggested. “The Council still doesn’t know that the geas is gone, so maybe Spike could let them know that he’s found the Key. They might send either the Knights or the Council goons after that.”

 

“It’s something to think about,” Spike agreed. “But let’s wait until we’ve seen this sword that will supposedly kill a Hellgod. I want to have a weapon in hand the next time we face Glory.”

 

They went back to talking about boring stuff after that—lists and patrolling schedules—and Dawn continued reading about how William the Bloody had helped a family loosely connected to the Watcher’s Council to sneak over the Berlin Wall in the 1950’s.

 

Dawn’s attention was captured again when Willow said, “Come on, Buffy. It’s spring break.”

 

“There’s too much going on,” Buffy objected. “What about Dawn? We’re already going out of town to visit Robert.”

 

“I already talked to Giles, and there’s Xander and Mr. O’Mara for backup.” There was a triumphant note in Willow’s voice that caused Dawn to stifle a sigh. She really hated feeling like a burden.

 

Buffy and Spike did that thing where they looked at each other and communicated without words, something Dawn was all too familiar with since they did it all the time around her.

 

“Fine,” Buffy finally said. “I guess we could use a night off.”

 

Dawn huffed and went back to the book. _She_ wanted a night off, too, one where she could be just another normal teen, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

 

It just wasn’t fair.

 

~~~~~

 

The farther they got from Sunnydale, the more Spike relaxed. They would have to go back in a few hours, of course, but for right now, the only thing he wanted to think about was being on the open road.

 

“You know, it’s kind of odd that the only two times I’ve gone to Los Angeles was to visit Robert.”

 

He glanced over at Tara, who was staring out the window at the passing scenery. Buffy had decided at the last minute not to go, not wanting to leave Sunnydale, and pointing out that this trip was more about Spike and Tara than it was about her.

 

“Is that right?”

 

“I went straight to UC Sunnydale when I came, and I’ve just never had any reason to go to L.A.”

 

“We’ll have to fix that once this is all over.”

 

Silence fell, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Spike had found Tara to be excellent company; she wasn’t one of those who couldn’t let the silence ride.

 

“Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Sure, luv. What’s up?”

 

“You said you’d heard stories.” Tara turned in the seat to face him, tucking one leg up underneath her. “About—about what I am.”

 

He had, and Spike remembered his promise. There simply hadn’t been enough time between their farewell at the airport and now.

 

“You know, it doesn’t mean much to call someone a demon,” Spike began, warming to his subject. “Sure, there are evil bastards who fit the stereotype, but there are those who aren’t much different than your average human. And then there are those who are as good as the nasty ones are evil.”

 

Tara shook her head. “I don’t think I understand.”

 

“All those stories about angels? Where do you think they come from?” Spike could see her processing the question, shaking her head in denial. “Healing, protecting… Robert’s clan are nomadic, true, but it seems anywhere they go, they leave it better than it was.”

 

“I’m not that special!” she protested.

 

Spike just smiled. “That’s because you live inside your own head, pet. If you could see what the rest of us see, you’d know different.”

 

And the rest of the trip _was_ made in silence.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara couldn’t help but find her current situation ironic. She was a half-demon, traveling in a car with a souled vampire, to meet another half-demon—who was likely a relative of some sort—to get answers about her background and pick up a weapon that might help to save the world.

 

And then she finds out that the demon blood running through her veins likely resembled far more the blood of angels.

 

She had to swallow her giggle at the thought of what her father’s reaction would be.

 

Following Spike up the wide steps of Robert’s mansion, Tara hung back, feeling a little shy and uncertain. She had disowned—or been disowned by—her blood kin, and now she was unaccountably nervous given that she’d met Robert before.

 

Spike and Robert greeted one another with a handclasp and an embrace, then Robert looked over Spike’s shoulder. “Hello, little sister.”

 

“Hi.” Tara ascended the steps to meet him, finding herself charmed when he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks.

 

“Welcome.” He motioned them both inside. “I will give you all the answers I can,” Robert said, looking at Tara. “But I imagine that Spike will want to see this sword.”

 

“I do.” Spike gave Tara an apologetic look. “Sorry, but—”

 

“We’re on a deadline,” she finished for him. “And you have a party to go to tonight.”

 

“A party?” Robert inquired.

 

Spike shrugged. “It’s spring break, and Buffy needs some time off.”

 

“And you do not?”

 

Robert’s tone was arch, and Tara hid a smile. “The sword?”

 

The smile on Robert’s face made it clear that he knew he’d managed to get a rise out of Spike. He led both of them to his study, and asked them to wait. “I’ll be right back.”

 

“I hope you don’t mind waiting.”

 

Tara shook her head. “We need this more, Spike. I understand that.”

 

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t need answers.”

 

She shrugged. “I’ve lived with the questions for most of my life. I can survive a little longer.”

 

Robert came back into the room a moment later, holding a long object swathed in a black, silky fabric. “Others have touched it with no adverse effects, but I’d rather not risk it,” he explained. “I believe that it was meant for you, Spike.”

 

Tara watched as Spike took the sword, unwrapping it slowly. “I feel a bit like Arthur with the bloody stone,” he muttered with a wry chuckle.

 

“Maybe you are King Arthur,” Tara suggested.

 

Spike paused to glare at her, then turned back to the sword. He removed the last of the silk wrappings and allowed them to drift to the floor as he closed his bare hand around the hilt for the first time.

 

Although Tara knew that the reaction wouldn’t be visible to the naked eye, she could see the change as the metaphysical flames leapt up from the sword. Seeing the awe on Robert’s face, she thought that he could probably see it, too.

 

Spike, on the other hand, was looking puzzled. “Can’t you see it?” she asked.

 

He shook his head. “No. I _felt_ something, but…”

 

“It’s going to work, Spike.” As Tara spoke the words, she heard the certainty in her own voice. “It’s going to work.”

 

Spike stared at the blade, then smiled. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Oh, crap,” Buffy muttered, looking at herself in the full-length mirror. “Spike, does this—”

 

“Don’t start that, Summers,” he ordered, poking his head out of the bathroom. “I mean it.”

 

“But—”

 

“You’re not fat. You’re perfect, and I’m not about to get embroiled in a discussion about what clothing you should wear tonight.” Spike went back to doing whatever it was he’d been doing in the bathroom—probably shaving. He didn’t have to do it very often, but vampires’ hair still grew.

 

Buffy pouted, and looked into the mirror. The summery dress was perfect for the on-campus party she and Willow had been invited to, but it had been months since she had dressed up for anything. She felt like she was out of practice.

 

Spike strolled out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of dark jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket—his usual attire. “Why is it so easy for men?”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know that it took me a century to perfect this look.”

 

She snorted. “Why don’t I believe that?”

 

His grin was bright, and he gave her a brief, hard kiss. “Let’s go. The others will be waiting for us.”

 

Buffy knew that a lot of Spike’s good mood had to do with the rather impressive sword he’d brought back from Robert’s. _She_ thought it looked like any other sword, but she had been assured multiple times by both Spike and Tara and it was special.

 

She sighed. She really wanted a special sword, too, the better to smite her enemies.

 

“Where’s Warren?” The female voice rose above the din. “Have you seen Warren? He needs me.”

 

Buffy’s eyebrows rose, hearing the absolute certainty in the girl’s voice. She had recently heard the same sort of certainty in the Knights’ words about severing the Link and destroying the Key; it was the certainty of a religious fanatic.

 

Only it seemed that this girl was more interested in Warren, whoever that was.

 

Although Buffy would have preferred to ignore her, the crowd parted, and she watched as a drunk frat boy approached the pretty brunette. Buffy couldn’t hear what the boy said, but the girl responded with a disgusted expression, tossing him through a window a few seconds later.

 

Buffy ran forward. “Hey! You can’t go throwing people through windows!” Buffy skidded to a stop in front of the girl, who showed no concern whatsoever. “Look, I realize that he probably said something really rude, but we just don’t throw people through windows.”

 

“I have to find Warren,” she insisted.

 

Buffy took a deep breath, hanging onto her patience by a small margin. “Okay. What’s your name?”

 

“April. Do you know Warren?”

 

“No, but I’m sure we can help you.”

 

April smiled politely. “No, that’s okay. I can find him.”

 

Buffy wasn’t about to allow her to run around on her own, especially since she seemed to be prone to throwing people around if they couldn’t tell her where Warren was. Reaching out to grab April’s arm, Buffy said, “If you’ll just hang on a minute—”

 

In retrospect, Buffy wasn’t surprised that she went flying through the air a moment later. Spike was there immediately to help her up, and Buffy heard April say, “I’m sorry, but I really must find Warren now.”

 

“Shit.” Buffy brushed ranch dip off of her dress. “Okay, this was a new dress. I _bought_ this dress especially for this party.”

 

“It might come out,” Willow said hopefully.

 

Buffy watched as April stepped through the broken window. “You know, that was weird.”

 

“I’ll say,” Spike agreed. “She doesn’t have a heartbeat.”

 

“You mean, she was a vampire?” Willow asked, reaching for Wesley’s hand.

 

Spike shook his head. “No, I mean she didn’t have a heartbeat.”

 

Willow frowned. “She was a robot.”

 

Buffy stared at her. “Huh?”

 

“Like Ted,” Willow added. “A robot. No heartbeat, single-minded purpose. Robot.”

 

“So, what are we going to do about it?” Wesley asked.

 

Buffy considered for a moment. “Find Warren?”

 

Willow sighed. “It’s not a terribly common name. I’ll start looking around.”

 

Wesley draped an arm over her shoulders. “Do you want me to walk you back to the dorm?”

 

She shook her head. “I think that Quinn and Tara are probably there now. I’ll go back with you.”

 

As they left, Buffy let out a sigh. “I should have known I wouldn’t get an evening off.”

 

“Willow’s taking care of it for right now, luv,” Spike replied. “Let’s get out of here and enjoy our evening.”

 

Buffy couldn’t find a reason to refuse him, and it appeared to be the best way to salvage the evening.


	30. Chapter 30

**“Now the Spring is waking,/Very shy as yet,/Busy mending, making/Grass and violet./Frowsy Winter’s over:/See the budding lane!/Go and meet your lover:/Spring is here again!/Every day is longer/Than the day before;/Lambs are whiter, stronger,/Birds sing more and more;/Woods are less than shady,/Griefs are more than vain—/Go and kiss your lady:/Spring is here again!” ~E. Nesbit, “Song (Now the Spring is Waking)”**

 

“I’m glad you talked me out of going to the party,” Tara said softly.

 

Quinn smiled. “I don’t mean to keep you from your friends.”

 

“You’re not. I chose to leave.” Tara pulled her in for a kiss. “I wanted to be with you.”

 

Tara watched as Quinn’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” The next kiss was passionate, becoming heated quickly.

 

Quinn made a noise of protest. “Willow…”

 

“Willow will be going home with Wesley, if I know her—and I do.” Tara drew her down so that Quinn covered her body. “So, I think you should stay with me. You’ll be safe with me.”

 

“I believe you.” Quinn’s lips traced the line of her collarbone. “You’re a witch, and a powerful one at that.”

 

“I’m not so special.”

 

“You don’t see what I see.” Quinn pulled back, dark eyes intense. “In your eyes, I see something—”

 

Tara felt her face grow hot. “I don’t—”

 

“You’re so beautiful.” Quinn’s voice was reverent. “I swear I see something in you that I’ve never seen in anyone else.”

 

“Maybe because I’m half-demon?” Tara suggested, trying to pass it off as a joke.

 

Quinn shook her head. “Maybe. But possibly just because it’s you.”

 

They were both undressed when the phone rang, exploring the other’s body with mouths and hands, flushed with pleasure and the heat of desire. Tara couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so strongly about someone, and she wasn’t happy to be interrupted.

 

“What?”

 

“Sorry to interrupt, Tara, but I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be back tonight.” Willow cleared her throat. “I just thought you might want to know. And, um, if you want, I can call Mr. O’Mara.”

 

“Please.” Tara gasped as Quinn’s mouth closed over her breast, and she glanced down to see Quinn’s wicked smile. “Please.”

 

Willow let out a breathy little chuckle. “Will do! Enjoy!”

 

Tara heard the dial tone a second later. She didn’t think she was going to have a choice about enjoying herself.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike relaxed in the afterglow of their lovemaking, trying to recapture the certainty he’d felt earlier in the day while the sword had been in his hand. If Buffy had been sleeping, he might have pulled it out, just to experience it again.

 

Maybe it was stupid, and destiny was definitely still a bitch, but he felt like he was born to hold that sword.

 

Still, even with the sword, even knowing that they now had a weapon that would—probably—kill Glory, he felt a sense of foreboding. It was a gut-level instinct, and his gut rarely led him wrong. This new threat, one more thing to deal with it, was probably what had pushed him over the edge.

 

The robot had seemed nice enough, and it appeared as though all she really wanted was to find Warren, but what if it turned out she was some sort of killer robot? That was the last thing they needed.

 

“Red is working on it.” Spike wasn’t sure if he was reassuring Buffy or himself. “We’ll stop the robot from tossing anyone through another window.”

 

“We need to end this.”

 

He could hear the strain in Buffy’s voice, and he knew that it came from worrying about her family, every day, for months on end. Spike couldn’t blame her; he was feeling stretched thin himself.

 

“I know.” He paused, his eyes easily parsing the darkness. “Wes found another prophecy relating to the one that started this whole mess.”

 

Buffy heaved a weary sigh. “What did it say?”

 

“Said that the vampire with a soul would receive a reward at the end of things. That he would live until he died. Wes thinks it means I’d become human, or something like it.” The answering silence went on so long that Spike began to get nervous. “Buffy?”

 

“Are you okay with that?”

 

“I don’t have a lot of choice, do I?”

 

“That’s not what I asked, Spike.” He felt her shift on the bed next to him, and the lamp clicked on a moment later. “If you became human somehow, would you want to undo it?”

 

“I don’t know.” Spike sighed, unable to meet Buffy’s eyes. “There’s a lot I could do as a human, and yet…”

 

“There’s a lot you can do as a vampire.” Buffy finished the sentence for him, then reached out to rub a soothing pattern on his bare chest. “I love _you_. Human, vampire, it doesn’t matter to me. Granted, I’ll probably worry a little more if you’re _not_ an invincible vampire, but Wesley does okay, and you’re way more of a badass than him.”

 

Spike laughed. “You’ve got that right.”

 

Buffy cupped his cheek. “This has something to do with how you were as a human, doesn’t it?”

 

He nodded. “Yeah. I wasn’t worth much.”

 

“Well, you’ve changed since then,” Buffy pointed out pragmatically. “I wasn’t worth much before I got all chosen, and you and I both know what I’m like when I don’t have my Slayer powers.”

 

Spike grinned and refrained from pointing out the obvious—that Buffy had been just as stubborn, and just as prone to getting herself into trouble.

 

Some unnamed emotion passed over Buffy’s face then. “Promise me when this is over, we’ll get married.”

 

He frowned, puzzled. “Sure.”

 

“If we know we’re going to make it through this, we will.” Buffy sounded just a little bit desperate, and Spike wondered if she was feeling the same unease that he was.

 

For her sake, he pushed down his own fears. “We’re going to make it through this, and we’re going to get married.”

 

“And live happily ever after?” Buffy prompted.

 

“That too,” he promised, and he didn’t care that it was likely a lie.

 

~~~~~

 

It turned out that Warren was definitely not a common name. Willow had a list within a few hours, and she had that list narrowed down to just a couple of people soon after that. “Now, it’s just a matter of talking to them and figuring out who wanted to build a girlfriend.”

 

Her announcement was met with a gentle snore from the direction of Wesley’s couch, and she glanced over to see him fast asleep, t-shirt twisted around his chest, and one arm flung over his head.

 

Willow smirked, then sighed, realizing that it meant she’d be sleeping alone tonight.

 

They hadn’t talked about her marriage proposal yet; she hadn’t wanted to push after what had happened with Wesley’s father—and she was definitely going to turn him into something nasty the next time she saw Roger Wyndam-Pryce, with or without Wesley’s approval. The man deserved to have really horrible things done to him.

 

Hearing Roger’s words, his answer to Wesley’s question, had caused Willow to be more grateful than ever for her distant parents. Sometimes indifference was better than interest.

 

With a sigh, Willow grabbed the afghan from the back of the couch, ready to cover him up, when Wesley stirred and opened his eyes. “Will?”

 

“Yeah. I’ve got the information Buffy needed. We don’t need to do anything about it until tomorrow.”

 

Confusion was written over his face. “Did I fall asleep?”

 

“Yeah, you did,” she said tenderly. “Come on. If you sleep on the couch, you’re going to get a knot in your neck.”

 

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

 

“Yep, but we can’t do anything about it until tomorrow.” She glanced at the clock. “Or, well, you know. For a few hours.” Willow led him to bed, watching as he stripped down to his boxers. She wondered briefly at the fact that she knew every scar on his body, she knew all the little noises he made in his sleep, and the way his eyelashes curled.

 

Two years before, Willow never would have given Wesley a second thought—and now she couldn’t see herself with anyone else. Funny how life worked.

 

She let him pull her close, feeling him nuzzle her shoulder as he slipped back down into sleep again, with her following soon after.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles glanced up as the bell over the door of the bookstore rang, and Anya breezed in. “Hello, Giles.”

 

“Oh, good. Would you mind looking through these receipts? The books are off somewhere, and I can’t figure out where the mistake is.” Giles handed the log to Anya. “And I’ll be leaving a little earlier today. It’s my turn to pick Thomas up.”

 

Anya gave him a sharp look. “Is it worth it?”

 

“Is what worth it?”

 

“Having a child?”

 

Giles raised an eyebrow. “Are you and Xander planning to start a family, or—”

 

“No, it’s just with so much danger, and everyone has been talking about the Council and the Knights, and Glory, I just wondered if it was worth it. Wouldn’t it be easier if you didn’t have a child?”

 

Giles thought about _not_ having Thomas for all of two seconds before he answered with a definitive, “It’s worth it.”

 

“Really?” Anya didn’t sound convinced, and Giles couldn’t blame her. Before Thomas was born, he had thought he’d known what it was to be a parent. Although it was true that he loved Buffy like his own daughter, what he felt for Thomas was different in a way that couldn’t be put into words.

 

“Really. When you have children, you’ll understand.” Giles smiled, remembering all the occasions someone had said the same thing to him; he’d hated it every time.

 

Anya opened her mouth to respond—or to argue, which was more likely—when the front windows of the shop burst open. Giles pulled Anya down behind the counter, feeling shards of glass hit his tweed jacket. _Better than Kevlar_ , he thought as he heard the shouts behind him.

 

“Run, out the back,” he hissed. “Get Buffy.”

 

He could hear her swallow. “There are too many.”

 

“I’ll take care of that. You run.” Giles launched himself over the counter, cursing middle-aged bones and muscles that no longer responded as they had when he was a young man. There were four men there, dressed all in black, and he had no trouble recognizing their origin.

 

Giles thought it somewhat odd that they hadn’t even considered the possibility that the Council would come after him, although he thought that perhaps they should have expected it. As the Slayer’s Watcher, he would likely know the location of the Key.

 

And knowing the Council, they knew exactly how they were going to make him talk.

 

~~~~~

 

Anya couldn’t help but hate herself a little bit for running like that, but she knew why Giles made her go. The men in black would have been able to hold him for hours before anyone knew if she had stayed. She didn’t know how Giles had managed to hold them off for long enough to allow her to run, but she’d escaped out the back entrance.

 

She hadn’t stopped to look back, not wanting to see what had happened to Giles, and fearing that it would slow her down.

 

Anya ran in her perfectly practical heels—practical for working in the shop, at least, but not for running. After a couple of blocks, she kicked them off and picked them up—no sense in wasting a good pair of shoes—and went straight for Xander’s work.

 

Xander would know what to do, and he would find the map, and that would tell them where they were taking Giles, and he could tell Buffy and Spike, and they would mount a rescue operation, and everything would be okay.

 

Anya took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts and ease the stitch in her side. She wasn’t used to running like this. And she _couldn’t_ _breathe_ , and she couldn’t think about what was happening to Giles. She _liked_ Giles; he was a good employer, and he didn’t mind it too much when she mentioned her and Xander’s activities, and he didn’t get mad when she made inappropriate comments around the customers.

 

Although he did clean his glasses a lot.

 

She was forced to slow down as she approached Xander’s worksite. There was glass and debris on the sidewalk around the construction area, and she had to put her shoes back on.

 

Glancing around, Anya realized that Xander was probably inside somewhere, and she suspected that while this was a family emergency, anyone she talked to would want to know details. And she definitely couldn’t give out details.

 

“An?”

 

Xander’s voice had never been so welcome. He came trotting over from the trailer on the site, looking sweaty and delicious—and Anya hated herself a little bit more for noticing those things at such an inappropriate time.

 

“Xander!” She flung her arms around his neck, needing to feel his warm bulk. “We need the map.”

 

He pulled back, holding her at arm’s length, looking her up and down to be sure she wasn’t hurt. “You have a cut on your cheek,” he observed.

 

“It’s Giles,” Anya said, shaking her head impatiently. The cut didn’t hurt; it didn’t matter. It wasn’t _important_. “They took him.”

 

Xander put an arm around her shoulders, leading her outside of the gate to the site for a little privacy. They were beginning to draw a crowd, his co-workers staring at them with concern and interest in their expressions. Anya sensed that they were hungry for gossip, and that Xander didn’t want to give it to them.

 

“Who took him?” he demanded in a low voice.

 

Anya swallowed, trying to get her breath back. She realized that her lungs were burning, and her legs were beginning to feel very weak. “The Council. He made me run.”

 

“You did the right thing,” Xander said immediately, apparently sensing her need for reassurance. “Just—stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

 

He jogged back towards the trailer, leaving Anya to stand outside the perimeter, hugging herself tightly.

 

She _had_ done the right thing. Anya just wished that she felt better.


	31. Chapter 31

**“We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;/How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,/Streaking the darkness radiantly!—yet soon/Night closes round, and they are lost forever:/Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings/Give various response to each varying blast,/To whose frail frame no second motion brings/One mood or modulation like the last./We rest.—A dream has power to poison sleep;/We rise.—One wandering thought pollutes the day;/We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;/Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;/It is the same!—For, be it joy or sorrow,/The path of its departure still is free:/Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;/Nought may endure but Mutability.” ~Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Mutability”**

 

Buffy sat on the swing next to April; it was hard to think of her as just a robot now. She was grateful that Spike had gone with her to confront Warren about his girlfriend-bot, because April certainly hadn’t appreciated being dumped. Between trying to save Warren’s human girlfriend, and trying to convince his robotic girlfriend not to kill everything and everyone standing in her way to get to Warren…

 

Well, two heads were better than one.

 

“Buffy?”

 

“What do you think we should do with her?” she asked. “I mean, she’s not a person, but—”

 

Spike put a hand on her shoulder. “Take her back with us, I suppose. There’s no sense leaving her with that git, and a robot could come in useful.”

 

“Not if she insists on being with Warren,” Buffy countered.

 

“Maybe Willow could do something about that,” Spike suggested.

 

Buffy was about to agree when her cell phone rang. “Speak of the devil,” she commented, seeing Willow’s name on the caller ID. “What’s up, Will?”

 

“It’s Giles, Buffy.” Willow sounded tense and scared. “The Council took him.”

 

“When was this?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe half an hour ago?” Willow replied anxiously. “Xander called. He’s on his way to Wes’ place with the map. Tara’s calling Quinn and her dad.”

 

“Someone is going to need to call Mom,” Buffy replied. “And pick Dawn up. She went to a friend’s house for the afternoon.”

 

“We’ll swing by on our way over there.” Spike broke into the conversation, clearly having heard what Willow had just said. “Tell Willow to sit tight and wait for everyone to get there.”

 

“I heard.” Willow spoke before Buffy could pass along the message. “Oh, and Wes is calling your mother now. We’re going to tell her to come here, too.”

 

“Good idea.” Buffy hung up the phone and turned to Spike. “Now what?”

 

“Now, we load the robot in the car, I grab the sword, you grab Dawn, and we kill every single one of those Council bastards.” Spike’s eyes glowed with unholy fire. “They’ve gone too far this time.”

 

Buffy agreed. Giles was the closest thing to a father she had, and if there was one universal law, it was that no one messed with the people she loved.

 

~~~~~

 

For once, Dawn felt entirely ordinary. Stretched out on a lawn chair next to Ally in her front yard, letting the sun bake her skin, she felt like any other California girl.

 

“Thanks for inviting me today,” Dawn said. “I was really bored.”

 

“I’m glad you could come.” Ally tilted her head to look at Dawn. “You’ve been pretty scarce lately.”

 

And with that one question, Dawn’s bubble burst. She wasn’t normal, and she somehow had to make up a story that would satisfactorily explain that she hadn’t been around because there were at least three groups who wanted Dawn dead, and Buffy didn’t want to let her out of her sight.

 

“There’s been a lot of family drama lately,” Dawn said vaguely. “You know.”

 

Ally pushed herself up onto one elbow. “I don’t know. Just because things are weird with your family doesn’t mean you have to ditch your friends.”

 

Dawn bit back a sigh, knowing that she was going to need a better lie if she wanted to keep what few friends she had. “It’s just—my sister has this creepy, stalker ex-boyfriend, and she’s worried that he’s going to try to hurt her family.”

 

“Seriously?” Ally’s eyes were wide.

 

Dawn tried to shrug it off. She was serious, but the crazy part was that things were much worse than that. “Yeah. It’s pretty nuts. Buffy and Joyce both want to make sure I’m safe.”

 

“I’m glad they let you come over, then.” Ally’s voice was hushed, as though afraid of being overheard. “Are they going to put him in jail?”

 

“I think Buffy just wants him to leave town.” It was the best lie Dawn could come up with on short notice. She pushed herself up, frowning when she saw a familiar black car coming down the street. “That’s my sister.”

 

Ally sat up, putting her long legs on either side of the chair. “I thought you were staying for dinner.”

 

“I was.” Dawn felt her stomach sink when she saw Buffy get out of the car. Buffy’s attempt at a pleasant smile came off more as a grimace, and Dawn knew it was bad. “Buffy? What is it?”

 

“It’s Giles, Dawn. We need to go.”

 

“Is he okay?” She was already gathering her things, knowing that this was no time to argue.

 

“We can talk about it in the car.”

 

Dawn pulled her t-shirt on over her bikini top and quickly shimmied into her shorts. “Sorry, Ally.”

 

“No, I get it. Be careful, okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll call you,” Dawn promised, then grabbed her tote bag. She climbed into the backseat of Spike’s Mustang, and immediately asked. “What happened?”

 

Spike cleared his throat. “The Council grabbed him. We need to make sure you’re safe, luv.”

 

Dawn swallowed. “What does that mean, Spike?”

 

“It means that your spring break might end up being a little longer than planned.”

 

Dawn hugged herself, knowing that if anything happened to Giles, it would be her fault. She was the Key; she was the one the Council and everyone else seemed to want.

 

~~~~~

 

Willow was very quietly freaking out. The Council had Giles— _Giles_ —and she thought about what they had discovered in England, what Wesley’s father had told them. Maybe he’d remembered what they’d done, and the memory spell hadn’t worked right.

 

“Stop it,” Wesley said gently, kneading her shoulders. “This is the Council’s doing. We need to remember that.”

 

She heard the strain in his voice, too. “Why wouldn’t they come after one of us, Wes? You, or me, or even Buffy?”

 

“Giles has an infant son and a wife, as well as a Slayer.”

 

She twisted to look up at him. “You don’t think—”

 

“I believe it may be time to turn to plan B.” His voice was even, but there was something in his eyes that Willow didn’t like.

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

Wesley shook his head. “This is going to get bloody.”

 

Willow wished that she could protest, to tell him that it wasn’t going to be that bad, but she knew already that it was. It was going to be awful.

 

“They’ve stopped,” Xander announced. “They’re about fifteen miles east of us.”

 

A brief knock on the door announced Quinn’s arrival, followed closely by her father and Joyce. “We stopped to pick up Joyce and Thomas,” Quinn explained. “I thought it might be too dangerous for them to be alone.”

 

“Do we know anything?” Joyce asked, her voice strained with worry.

 

Willow shook her head. “We know where he is. As soon as everyone gets here, we can make a plan.”

 

A tense silence fell, broken only by the sound of Quinn and Tara’s murmurs as they quickly caught one another up on the situation.

 

Oscar sat down next to Joyce on the couch, leaning over to get a better look at Thomas. “May I?”

 

She hesitated, then handed the sleeping infant to the man. Oscar handled the baby with practiced ease, smiling when he got a deep chortle out of him. “He’s absolutely lovely, Mrs. Summers,” Oscar said.

 

“He really is.”

 

“Has he been sleeping through the night?”

 

Willow watched Oscar expertly distract Joyce from her worry. She supposed that they’d become friendly with Joyce having either Oscar or Quinn at the gallery with her most of the time. Oscar was relating stories of when his daughters were that age when Spike and Buffy walked in, followed by Dawn.

 

Spike was carrying a long object wrapped in black silk under his arm, and Buffy was carrying one of the duffel bags they routinely used to carry weapons. “Is everyone here?” Buffy asked, looking around, her eyes finding Joyce. “Mom? You okay?”

 

“Just—find Rupert.”

 

Buffy nodded. “Xander, do we know where they took him?”

 

“They’re about fifteen miles outside of town. I’m not sure where, since the map isn’t that accurate outside of Sunnydale.”

 

“If it’s fifteen miles out of Sunnydale; there’s not much there,” Spike inserted. “We’ll find it.”

 

Buffy nodded. “Xander, Anya, Quinn, stay here with Mom and Dawn. You don’t leave until we say so.”

 

“Hang on!” Quinn protested. “Why do I have to stay here?”

 

“You’re the one with a price on her head,” Buffy said. “They might hesitate to shoot someone else.”

 

“Not that I particularly want my daughter to go with you, but they won’t hesitate to shoot any of you, not these men.” Oscar looked apologetic. “They will have no trouble killing each and every one of you.”

 

“They’ll have more than a little trouble killing me,” Spike muttered.

 

Joyce looked alarmed. “But won’t they try to make a deal? Ask for ransom, or information, or something?”

 

Oscar shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Joyce. They’ll know how to get information out of him, and then they’ll act on what they find.”

 

“Which makes it imperative that we locate him as soon as possible,” Wesley put in. He pulled on a jacket over the dual pistols he wore. “Shall we?”

 

“Don’t we need a plan?” Tara asked tentatively.

 

Buffy smiled, and Willow recognized that expression. It was the one Buffy got when she was ready to do some serious damage. “We can’t make plans until we see what we’re up against.”

 

“Let’s go,” Spike announced. “We take out the Council gits, and then we can focus on Glory and the Knights.”

 

It was a plan Willow couldn’t argue with.

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn was grateful that she’d managed to talk her way into the mission to rescue Giles. The last thing she wanted was to get left behind. Her dad hadn’t protested much, possibly because Joyce was slightly more comfortable with Oscar.

 

Besides, she hated getting left behind, no matter how important guard duty might be.

 

Right now, she was lying next to Wesley in the tall grass outside an abandoned building. It looked like it might have been an old service station at one point, but it was dilapidated now, and probably didn’t keep out the elements.

 

Spike had been the one to split them up—Tara and Willow to the north, because they were safer if they could work magic together. Spike and Buffy had split up, covering east and west respectively, which left Quinn and Wesley to the south.

 

She watched as Wesley brushed his jacket back from the twin semi-automatics he was wearing, and suppressed a smile. She’d heard stories about Wesley’s incompetence while with the Council, but whatever he’d been before, he was a badass now.

 

She heard the vibrations of a cell phone, and Wesley picked up. “Yes?”

 

Quinn listened hard, but she couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. Wesley snapped the phone closed. “The Council is alone on this one. Spike said there were half a dozen men—three on the perimeter, three inside.”

 

“Did they see Giles?”

 

Wesley shook his head. “No. They couldn’t get close enough. Spike wants us to take out the ones we can on our side of the building. We’ll regroup as soon as the perimeter guards are down.”

 

“Down, or dead?”

 

Wesley shrugged, his expression hard. “It doesn’t matter, as long as they can’t interrupt.”

 

Quinn thought about it, tallying up those she knew were part of the Council’s wet works team. “They’re all loyal to Travers,” she observed. “And they won’t stop until they reach their objective.”

 

“Very well.”

 

“Gunshots are going to give us away,” Quinn pointed out.

 

Wesley smiled. “I didn’t just bring guns.”

 

There was only one guard on their side of the perimeter, and Wesley ended up being the one to deal with him. It was made easier by the fact that the guard saw them first and had a gun pointed directly at Quinn’s head when Wesley threw his knife.

 

From the expression on Wesley’s face, it was at least partially a lucky shot, because it killed the guard instantly. Quinn relieved the Council operative of his gun and watched as Wesley pulled the knife out, cleaning it on the dead man’s sleeve before he stuck it back in his boot. “You alright?”

 

She nodded. “I’m good.”

 

They moved quickly and quietly towards the old building, staying low to the ground to minimize their profile. Quinn was cataloging threats and escape routes, trusting that Wesley was doing the same.

 

She was impressed by how he moved, Spike’s training showing through clearly. Quinn reached the building first, staying below the one window on that side. She crouched on the ground, her back to the wall, covering Wesley as he finished crossing the distance.

 

They both inched their way up the wall on either side of the window. Wesley had both guns in hand; Quinn had her favorite crossbow.

 

She heard the sound of wood splintering from the front, and Wesley broke the window with his elbow. Since he was wearing a leather jacket, it only made sense that he was the one to break the glass. Wesley fired off a couple of shots before he pulled back, and Quinn took his place. She could see one of the Council’s wet works team pointing a gun at the window, and she fired a bolt without a second thought.

 

The Council guy went down without a sound, and Quinn ducked down under the window again. “On the count of three,” Wesley mouthed.

 

Quinn nodded, and she watched his lips move, counting off at the same time that he did. Wesley wasn’t small enough, but she was, and on the count, she dove headfirst through the broken window, shielding her head from the jagged pieces of glass with her arms.

 

She rolled on her shoulder, coming up in a crouch and scanning the room. To her relief—or possibly dismay, she wasn’t sure—all of the Council wet works team was dead, pools of blood spreading under their bodies. As reported, there were three inside, and Quinn was almost disappointed at how easy it had been.

 

Almost, because Giles was tied to a chair in the center of the room, and he didn’t appear to be in good shape.

 

“Giles.” Buffy was at his side immediately, racing from the doorway. Quinn noted that Spike had gone through first, the ring making it much less likely that he would be hurt or killed.

 

Spike was still clearly on alert, and Quinn echoed his movements, even as Wesley entered the building, followed shortly by Tara and Willow.

 

“How is he?” Spike asked.

 

Quinn glanced over her shoulder from her position at one of the windows, checking for reserves they might have missed. As far as she knew, the Council had at least a dozen men on call to do their dirty work, which meant that only half of them were definitely out of the way.

 

“Alive, but definitely unconscious,” Buffy said definitively. “We need to get him out of here.”

 

“Wes, Quinn, get Rupert,” Spike ordered. “Tara, Willow, you have the rear. Buffy, you’re with me.”

 

Spike called out orders with the precision of a military general, and Quinn couldn’t help but fall in line. It made sense to put the most powerful in the front and rear, and she and Wesley were the weakest links, at least physically.

 

“Do you think this was all of them?”

 

Spike’s question was directed at her, Quinn realized, and she thought about it for a moment. “Best guess? These were the only ones they had in Sunnydale right now. That doesn’t mean there aren’t more on the way.”

 

“We’ll take care of them, too,” Buffy asserted grimly. “And next time, we won’t wait for them to strike first.”

 

Quinn was trying to think of a way to get the Council off their tails. There wasn’t anything she could do about the Knights or Glory, but maybe she could prevent the wet works team from coming back.

 

“I’ll talk to my dad,” she said. “Once the rest of the Council finds out what Travers tried to do, you may not have to worry about him anymore. This could just be the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

 

And if it wasn’t, Quinn would have to find something.


	32. Chapter 32

**“All but Death, can be Adjusted—/Dynasties repaired—/Systems—settled in their Sockets—/Citadels dissolved—/Wastes of Lives—resown with Colors/By Succeeding Springs—/Death—unto itself—Exception—/Is exempt from Change—” ~Emily Dickinson, “All but Death, can be Adjusted”**

 

Joyce hated waiting. She supposed that Buffy came by her impatience honestly.  Pacing back and forth across the living room, she soothed a fussy Thomas. Dawn slept on Wesley’s couch, having finally fallen asleep. It was late, and Joyce knew that she should probably try to get some sleep.

 

Oscar was cleaning his gun for the third time, and Joyce recognized the same worry in him that she felt. Xander and Anya were sitting quietly, Xander whispering in his girlfriend’s ear every so often. Joyce suspected that he was trying to comfort her.

 

She understood why Anya felt guilty, and while Joyce wanted to comfort her, she couldn’t choke out the words through her anxiety.

 

“How are you holding up?” Oscar asked quietly.

 

“I could ask the same,” she returned.

 

He smiled. “You could, but I have also raised a Slayer.”

 

Joyce sat down at the table gingerly, trying not to disturb Thomas now that she’d calmed him down. She was thankful that she always packed more than he needed in the diaper bag, because she wasn’t sure that it was going to be safe enough to go home anytime soon.

 

Joyce jumped when the phone rang. She couldn’t bring herself to pick up the receiver, for fear of bad news, but she watched Oscar pick it up, her heart in her throat. “Hello?” Oscar’s deep voice asked.

 

“Good, that’s very good. We’ll leave shortly.” There was a pause. “Of course. We’ll see you then.” He put down the phone. “Rupert is alive,” Oscar said before she could ask. “They’re taking him to the hospital. We’ll go just as soon as Quinn gets here. She’s going to watch Dawn.”

 

“How is he?” Joyce demanded.

 

“Hurt, but in one piece. He’s in no danger.”

 

Joyce heaved a sigh of relief, but she knew that she wouldn’t feel completely easy until she could see him with her own eyes. “What about Thomas?”

 

“I’ll take him,” Xander offered, holding out her arms.

 

Joyce handed Thomas over reluctantly, watching closely as Xander cradled the baby close to his chest. Thomas settled into Xander’s arms almost immediately, and she smiled. “Thank you.”

 

“It’s my pleasure,” Xander murmured, and Joyce couldn’t help but believe him.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles slowly regained consciousness, first hearing voices, then blinking against the harsh fluorescents. “Giles?”

 

He had a moment of panic, hearing Buffy’s voice and fearing that the Council had kidnapped her as well. Giles struggled to sit up, feeling strong hands holding him down. “Rupert, you need to hold still. You’re safe now, but you’ve been injured.”

 

Recognizing Spike’s voice, he settled back on the bed, taking a deep breath as he forced his eyes open. “Where are they?”

 

“Dead. All of them.” Spike kept his voice low. “Joyce should be here any minute. We’ll stay with you; the girls and Wesley are going to take care of Dawn and Thomas tonight. You’re going to be fine.”

 

“You’re okay, Giles.” Buffy smiled tremulously. “I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner.”

 

He forced a smile. “I’m fine, Buffy. I wasn’t hurt too badly.”

 

“Liar,” she accused fondly. “We were here when the doctors were checking you out. Three cracked ribs, a broken finger, and too many bruises to count. You’re just lucky there wasn’t any internal bleeding.”

 

“What did you tell them?”

 

“That you got mugged,” Buffy responded with a shrug. “I don’t know if they believed me, but they didn’t argue, and that’s the important thing.”

 

He tried nodding but felt pain shoot through his head. His groan had Buffy sighing. “Stop moving, Giles. The doctor has you on some good pain medications, but you need to keep still.”

 

“Where’s Joyce?”

 

“She’s on her way. Quinn and the others were picking her up.” Buffy laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Just concentrate on getting better. We’ll take care of the rest.”

 

Giles had no choice but to follow her directions, considering that even the attempt to sit up set the room to spinning. “What about the Council members? Are they all dead?”

 

“We got them all, Rupert. You don’t need to worry about them.” Spike patted his shoulder. “I’m going to wait outside.”

 

Buffy kept her grip on his hand. “What happened, Giles?”

 

He shook his head slowly, trying to remember. “They came to the store, but you know that. Anya would have told you.”

 

“She did. She was pretty worried about you, Giles.”

 

He smiled reflectively. “She’s a good girl.”

 

Buffy returned his smile. “After that?”

 

“They knocked me out. When I came to, they told me that they wanted information on the Key.”

 

His Slayer grimaced apologetically. “I’m sorry to ask you this, Giles, but—”

 

“I didn’t break, Buffy.” Giles squeezed her hand to show that he bore her no ill will for her question. “I don’t blame you for asking.”

 

“You have a lot of broken bones, Giles.”

 

“I know how to withstand torture. I don’t know how much longer I would have been able to refrain from giving information.” Giles stopped, hearing Joyce’s voice in the hallway. He wanted to hide his injuries as much as possible, so as not to worry her anymore than she was already.

 

Joyce entered the room, her heels clicking on the floor. “Rupert.” She paused next to his bed, as though afraid to touch him. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m banged up, but there’s nothing seriously wrong with me,” he assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“I’ll be outside,” Buffy announced, pressing a kiss to Joyce’s cheek. “Call if you need anything.”

 

“Where’s Thomas?” Giles asked, his eyelids feeling heavy again.

 

Joyce brushed a hand over his forehead. “Xander has him. I was surprised at how well he did.”

 

“Thomas?”

 

“No, Xander.” Her thumb stroked his cheekbone gently, avoiding the bruises on his face. “Go to sleep, Rupert. I’ll still be here when you wake.”

 

“I’m sorry, love. I can’t stay awake.”

 

“That’s fine.”

 

Giles drifted off to sleep, content in the knowledge that he was safe.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy glanced over at Spike who was standing on the other side of the doorway. “I think it might be time for plan B.”

 

“I thought so myself,” Spike murmured. “As soon as Rupert is released, we’ll send him along with Joyce, Dawn, and Thomas. He’s vulnerable as long as he’s injured, and those broken ribs are going to take at least a month to heal.”

 

“Okay, so Xander takes them to Robert, but for how long?”

 

“Not long.” Spike crossed his arms over his chest, leaning up against the wall. “I have an idea.”

 

Buffy turned to face him. “What sort of idea?”

 

“Remember how Red was saying that she’d found a spell that would make people think an object had the energy of the Key?”

 

“Yeah.” The light dawned. “Oh. You mean April.”

 

“What kind of damage you think a robot like that could do if Red managed to rewire her?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know, but I think it would be a lot.”

 

“Call her,” Spike said. “Tell her and Wes to take her from our house, and get her rewired. Tell Red she’s got 48 hours.”

 

Buffy didn’t bother telling Spike that he was likely asking for too much; he knew that already, but he knew that Willow was capable of rising to meet expectations. “I’m sure she’ll do her best.”

 

“Her best might not be good enough this time.” Spike met Buffy’s eyes, and she saw fear; it was not comforting. “We need every weapon, luv, starting with that robot.”

 

“I’ll tell her, Spike.” Buffy walked off down the hallway, reaching for her cell phone as soon as she was outside.

 

“Hello?” Willow’s sleepy voice caused Buffy to wince.

 

“Sorry, Will. I didn’t want to wake you up, but it’s important.”

 

“When isn’t it?” Willow asked with a sigh. “What’s up?”

 

“We didn’t get a chance to tell you, but we found the robot. She ran out of battery power and shut down.”

 

Willow yawned loudly. “I appreciate you telling me, Buffy, but couldn’t this have waited until morning?”

 

“I’m afraid not. Remember that spell you were telling us about?”

 

“Which one? I need coffee before I can think straight.”

 

“To make an object look—you know.”

 

There was a pause, and Willow put two and two together just like Buffy had hoped she would. “Oh. Oh! Wait. You want me to rewire the robot?”

 

“If you can.”

 

Buffy wasn’t Willow’s best friend for nothing. She knew that her statement was the equivalent of throwing down the gauntlet, but with any luck, that’s all it would take to get Willow moving.

 

“Of course I can!” Willow sounded a little hurt. “Where is she now?”

 

“At Spike’s place, in the spare bedroom.”

 

“We’re headed there now,” Willow promised.

 

Buffy hung up the phone, praying that Spike’s plan worked, that this wouldn’t end up being some grand last stand. She sighed, leaning against the outer wall of the hospital, taking a moment to gather her thoughts and calm herself.

 

The thought of losing Giles frightened her; he was one of the key people in her life, and she didn’t know how she’d do without him. None of them could do without him.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley covered a yawn with his hand, then opened the closet door. “That is eerie.”

 

Willow pushed past him to get a glimpse of April on the floor of the closet, looking for all the world like a dead body. “Very.”

 

“Are we going to stay here?”

 

“I guess we’d better.” Willow gave the robot a speculative look. “I’d hate to get stopped by the police because it looks like we’re driving around with a dead body. I brought my toolkit.”

 

“When did Spike want April ready?”

 

Willow grimaced. “Two days, which is definitely wishful thinking. I promised I’d try, though. I think that’s when Spike wants to start going after these guys.”

 

Wesley picked April up, putting her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. She was heavier than she appeared, possibly because of the metal and wires. “Where do you want her?”

 

“Let’s start in the study.”

 

Wesley took the robot and laid her out on the floor. Willow went immediately to work, setting up her laptop to run diagnostics. She’d learned a lot from the pieces of Ted she’d salvaged several years before, and it soon became clear that about the only thing April knew how to do was please Warren.

 

“She has no skills, Wesley!” Willow said, incensed. “He left her completely defenseless.”

 

“Well, he only wanted one thing out of her.” Wesley kept his tone reasonable, but the look that Willow shot him said clearly that she did not appreciate his acceptance of Warren’s intentions.

 

“He made her for sex!”

 

“Which is incredibly wrong, no question,” Wesley agreed. “But other than her battery running low, she seemed to manage just fine without Warren.”

 

Willow snorted and didn’t reply. Wesley watched her work, dozing off once before waking up with a start at the sound of the door opening and closing.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Back here, Buffy!”

 

The Slayer showed up a few minutes later, looking tired and worn out. “Thanks for getting started on this so soon, Will.”

 

“Oh, no! It’s fascinating!” The new project had her as enthusiastic as Wesley had ever seen her, and he wondered how long it would be before Willow managed to meld her love of computers and magic; he gave her two years—tops.

 

Buffy grinned, some of the weariness leaving her face. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

 

“Where’s Spike?” Wesley asked from his spot in the desk chair.

 

“He’s staying at the hospital for now. He seems to think that he can do without sleep better than I can, and he’s probably right. Are Tara and Quinn still at your place?”

 

“Along with Oscar,” Wesley confirmed. “They’re watching in turns.”

 

“Great. I’m going to get cleaned up and get some sleep,” Buffy announced. She gave Willow a sympathetic look. “Don’t stay up all night. You _can_ get some sleep, no matter what Spike seems to think.”

 

Willow shrugged. “We’ll see. If I can’t keep my eyes open, I’ll probably catch a few hours.”

 

“Good night, guys.”

 

Wesley put his hands behind his head. “Do you need my help?”

 

“Go catch some sleep on the couch,” Willow ordered.

 

Wesley wasn’t about to argue. He figured he needed to get whatever sleep he could; they were going to be too busy for sleep soon.

 

~~~~~

 

Quinn checked her knives for dings and nicks, making sure that they were sharp and ready for use. Her father was sitting across from her at the table cleaning his gun. “How are you?” he asked softly.

 

“I’m okay, Dad.”

 

“You killed one of your own today, Quinn.”

 

“It had to be done.”

 

“It did, but that doesn’t mean you’re okay with it.”

 

Quinn sighed. “I’m not going back. The Council isn’t the place for me anymore.”

 

“I was wondering how long it would take you to reach that conclusion.” Oscar continued to clean his weapon, appearing completely calm. “The Council was never the right place for you, but there aren’t a lot of options for someone with your skill set and background.”

 

Quinn’s lips quirked in a smile. “I’m thinking about asking Spike for a job. He might have need of more muscle for his operation. Or maybe I’ll start my own business.” She put her knife down and met her dad’s eyes. “What are you going to do?”

 

“The world still needs a Slayer, and the Council is likely to go through some serious changes in the near future. When word gets around that Travers sent the best of his wet works team to kill one of his own, and that they’re all dead, there’s going to be a power shift.”

 

“As long as Travers is out on his arse,” Quinn muttered. “Did Mom start the news along the grapevine?”

 

“As soon as I called.” Oscar’s smirk indicated just how pleased he was. “It won’t be long before the rumblings become rifts, and the rifts tear the current administration apart.”

 

“Who is going to end up being head, do you think?” Quinn asked.

 

“Singh, I think,” Oscar replied thoughtfully. “He’s a well-liked, practical sort of man, who honors tradition. He’s not imaginative, which is why he’ll go back to ignoring William the Bloody, as the Council has done for the last century or so.”

 

Quinn sighed. “I suppose it might be too much to hope for that the Council would learn and grow from this experience.”

 

Oscar laughed. “Yes, I think so.”

 

She slid her knife into its sheathe. “Well, maybe someday.”

 

“You could always try to play politics and try to become Council head yourself someday,” her father suggested, a twinkle in his eye.

 

Quinn snorted. “Bite your tongue. You _know_ how I feel about politics.”

 

Oscar just laughed.


	33. Chapter 33

**“A dream that waketh,/Bubble that breaketh,/Song whose burden sigheth,/A passing breath,/Smoke that vanisheth,—/Such is life that dieth./A flower that fadeth,/Fruit the tree sheddeth,/Trackless bird that flieth,/Summer time brief,/Falling of the leaf,—/Such is the life that dieth…Morrow by morrow/Sorrow breeds sorrow,/For this my song sigheth;/From day to night/We lapse out of sight,—/Such is life that dieth.” ~Christina Rossetti, “Days of Vanity”**

 

Wesley smiled at the sight of Willow, curled up on the floor next to the robot. She had finally finished the rewiring job, and now April—and Willow—were recharging their respective batteries before they imbued April with the apparent qualities of the Key.

 

He eased out of Spike’s spare bedroom, closing the door silently behind him. Buffy and Spike sat in the living room, speaking in quiet voices. “How is she?” Spike asked.

 

“Sleeping. I think we’ll be able to do the spell tonight.”

 

Spike nodded. “Good. Xander leaves in a few hours for Los Angeles. Oscar is going with them and will stay behind to work with Robert on defense.”

 

“And Quinn?”

 

“She’s refusing to go.” Buffy smiled reflectively. “She won’t leave Tara.”

 

“What’s our game plan?”

 

Spike took a deep breath and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “We took one of the Knights to the psych ward, right?”

 

Wesley nodded slowly, vaguely remembering that. “Yes.”

 

“Well, once April is ready, we’ll take her over there, parade her in front of the crazies, then release the Knight. That should give them the scent.”

 

“And Glory?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “One problem at a time, Wes. We got rid of the Council, we’ll get rid of the Knights, and then we’ll deal with Glory. If Glory shows up before that, we’ll take care of her.”

 

Wesley couldn’t argue with their reasoning, or the general plan. “How is Dawn dealing with the upheaval?”

 

“She’s dealing,” Buffy said, sounding a bit grim.

 

Spike leaned back against the couch cushions. “About as well as you’d expect, poor kid. She’s being a good sport about it, all things considered.”

 

“We’ll all be glad when this is over.” Buffy rose. “I’m going to catch some sleep.”

 

Wesley took her place on the couch next to Spike. “They released Rupert?”

 

“With strict orders to rest,” Spike confirmed. “There’s no lasting damage; we can be grateful for that much.”

 

Wesley heard no gratitude in Spike’s voice, however. Smaller blessings were overshadowed by their current difficulties, and that wasn’t going to change soon.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn had no idea what she was supposed to pack, considering that she didn’t even know how long they were going to be gone. Joyce had promised that they could supplement what they brought with shopping trips to Los Angeles, but that didn’t help her much.

 

She went over her list: shorts, shirts, toiletries, swimsuit, and all the underwear she had. At moments like this, Dawn wished she had a favorite stuffed toy, something comforting to bring along on the trip.

 

“Dawn? Would you give me a hand?”

 

She followed the sound of Joyce’s voice down the hall to Tommy’s room. “What’s up?”

 

“Grab Tommy’s diaper bag?” Joyce asked, cradling the infant in her arms. “And his suitcase? I’m sorry, Dawn, but—”

 

“Did you get your suitcase downstairs yet?” Dawn interrupted; Joyce was about to apologize for the inconvenience, for making Dawn do so much with Giles still hurt. Dawn thought that she should be the one to apologize for causing so much trouble.

 

Joyce gave a sigh of relief. “No. I’m going to put Tommy in his car seat, then I’ll be back up to get the rest of our things.”

 

Dawn smiled and grabbed Tommy’s things, pausing as she caught sight of a stuffed blue elephant someone had given him. He didn’t sleep with it; he was more interested in his plastic rattle, or the small puppy he could clutch with both hands.

 

Hesitating only a moment, Dawn grabbed the elephant and shoved it into Tommy’s bag. She wasn’t stealing it; she was just borrowing. The toy was something to hold onto.

 

Dawn hurried down the stairs, unsurprised to find Spike standing in the foyer. “Hey, Bit.”

 

“Hey, Spike.”

 

“You want some help?”

 

“Yeah, that would be great.”

 

Spike followed her back up the stairs. Dawn fully expected a speech about how she needed to be brave, or how Spike was sorry it had come to this, and he wouldn’t be sending her away if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.

 

Instead, all he said was, “I’m proud of you, Dawn.”

 

She whirled to face him, Joyce’s suitcase in her hand. “What?”

 

“By all rights, you should be throwing a fit about now,” he said quietly. “You could refuse to go, leave your friends, your school, for who knows how long. You could make our lives miserable when we didn’t give you a choice. Instead, you’re facing it head on.”

 

Dawn tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

 

“Oh, luv.” Spike pulled her into a rough hug. “You’re not.”

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“You’re a bloody miracle, Bit, just like Tommy down there. Don’t you forget that.”

 

She sniffed. “Okay.”

 

“Look.” Spike pulled back to meet her eyes. “Robert has a pool, and a bunch of other things you’ll probably enjoy. Think about it as a vacation.”

 

“And if you can’t stop Glory?”

 

“We’ll stop her,” Spike promised. “It’s part of the prophecy, innit?”

 

Dawn had to admit that much was true. “Shouldn’t I be here for that?”

 

“All the prophecy says is that I’m the Guardian of the Key. This is how I’m protecting you.”

 

“Xander’s here! We’re ready to go, Dawn!”

 

Giles’ voice floated upstairs, but Dawn didn’t budge. Instead, she stared at Spike, trying to memorize this moment, knowing that this might be the last time she saw him. The next time they met—if they met—Glory would be dead, and Spike would have fulfilled his duty.

 

As though he’d read her mind, Spike said, “It’s not about duty, Dawn. It’s about family.”

 

She smiled, and hoped that it was a brave one. “I know. I’m ready.”

 

~~~~~

 

“You have to swear to be careful.” Oscar’s fierce glare and hard grip demonstrated the depth of his worry. “Your mother would kill me if something happened to you.”

 

Quinn managed a smile. “You know this is for the best, Dad. They need me here, and Buffy knows how to work a tactical advantage.”

 

Her father sighed. “That’s the only reason I’m allowing you to stay behind. As it is, I believe my help might be needed. Rupert is still hurting quite badly, and I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed taking care of an infant.” Oscar cupped her cheek. “Children grow up so quickly.”

 

“Love you, Dad,” Quinn said, not knowing of any other way to reply. “Be careful. We don’t know that they won’t follow you.”

 

“What they want is here, or so they think.” But he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be careful.”

 

Quinn watched as he slung his bag over his shoulder and slid into the SUV they had rented. None of their cars was big enough for everyone, but the rented vehicle would hold all of them. She watched Xander drive away and headed for her own vehicle. She was due to meet the others at Spike and Buffy’s house, and hopefully to take care of another menace.

 

~~~~~

 

“Okay!” Willow announced. “April is ready to go.” Her hand hovered over April’s invisible on-switch. “Just—a warning. The subroutines for her love of Warren were buried in there pretty deep.”

 

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

 

“It means that April thinks that by helping us, she can get back with Warren.” Willow winced. “I didn’t want to leave it like that, but there wasn’t an option with the short time we had.”

 

Spike cleared his throat. “We’ll make it work. Turn her on, Willow.”

 

Willow took a deep breath and did just that.

 

A whir of sound greeted them, then April’s eyes snapped open. She looked around eagerly. “Warren?”

 

“He’s not here, April. Remember?” Willow prompted gently.

 

“Oh, right! If I help you, I’ll see Warren again,” April said brightly, her words somewhere between a statement and a question.

 

Or maybe Willow was reading more feeling into it than was actually there. It was so hard to tell with a robot, especially one on the level of April. “That’s right. We’re going to the hospital right now.”

 

They made the trip to the hospital in relative silence. Willow had installed a subroutine that caused April to be quiet unless she had a question, even though she’d felt a little guilty for doing so. She promised herself that just as soon as this was all over, she would scrub all of that from April’s hard drive and either shut the robot down for good, or find a way to give her free will and develop a personality of her own.

 

Willow considered that option; it could make for a very interesting experiment.

 

She had no idea how Spike had managed to arrange the visit, but they led April up to the psych ward without incident. Walking through the door—where the patients were in restraints on single beds crowded into a large room—was a different story. A clamor rose immediately, various shouts about April being so green and so pretty filled their ears, but one voice stood out.

 

One of the patients, the one with the tattoo on his forehead marking him as a Knight of Byzantium, began to pray. “Thank you, God. I found it. I found it. Thank you, thank you.”

 

Willow watched as Spike and Buffy’s eyes met, and they moved as one to release the Knight from his restraints.

 

The noise from the other patients proved to be too much for the hospital staff to ignore, because a young man in scrubs spoke from behind them. “What’s going on here? What are you doing?”

 

“We’re taking our friend home,” Wesley lied smoothly. “From what I can see, you barely have enough beds as it is.”

 

Willow suddenly noticed that the doctor’s eyes were going from April, to the Knight, and back to April, and his expression was one of dawning realization. Wesley seemed to catch that, too, because he moved to block the doctor’s entrance. “I’d suggest that you allow us to take our friend home now.”

 

She made a note of his name tag—“Ben” was the only part Willow could see. Although it was possible that she’d been imagining things, she thought that Ben might know more than he should.

 

After a tense moment of silence, Ben stepped out of the way, and Buffy and Spike led the Knight out of the room by both arms. Willow put her arm around April’s shoulders. “Come on,” she murmured. “We have to go.”

 

“Are we going to find Warren now?” April asked, and the hope in her voice caused Willow to wince.

 

“Not just yet,” she hedged. “We have a couple more things to do first.”

 

And then, with any luck, Willow would be able to help April forget all about Warren.

 

~~~~~

 

The tall grass was tickling Buffy’s nose. She and Spike had followed the newly released Knight to an encampment outside the city limits. It was well hidden in an undeveloped area full of scrub brush, grass and trees, and Buffy had to admit that if they hadn’t had a guide—however unwitting—they never would have found the camp.

 

She could hear orders being given, although she couldn’t make out the words. Spike had refused to get too close for fear of discovery, and they didn’t have the necessary backup. Wesley and Willow were back at Spike’s place, as were Quinn and Tara, trying to get some sleep.

 

Buffy had promised herself that when this was all over, she and Spike would sleep for a week.

 

“Looks like they’re moving out,” Spike murmured in her ear.

 

She nodded, watching as the Knights suited up, grabbing weapons and armor. “They’re going to storm the house, I think.” Buffy did a head count and grimaced. “There are too many of them, Spike.”

 

“That’s why we followed the crazy one,” he replied with a predatory grin. “Let’s go.”

 

Buffy followed Spike, moving as silently as possible, and immediately realized what his objective was. Two of the Knights were lagging behind, but it was going to be tricky to kill them without the telltale jingle of armor.

 

Buffy put out a hand to stop Spike’s movements and picked up a rock from the ground. She threw it in the opposite direction the Knights were headed and the resultant racket caused the two men to turn and look in their direction. She held her breath, waiting, and the Knights turned and headed in their direction.

 

Spike unsheathed his sword, his eyes glittering with unholy joy; Buffy smirked as she produced her own sword—the one Spike had purchased to replace her broken Christmas gift.

 

The Knights might be human, but they had threatened her mother, and were ready to kill her sister—even if she was made up. Buffy took her promises seriously.

 

The two men went down quickly; Spike and Buffy struck as one, and the Knights’ heads rolled. They stopped to wipe the bloody blades on the dead men’s clothes.

 

Buffy and Spike continued to follow them, blades out and at the ready, at least until they got into town. At that point, they sheathed their swords and continued following the Knights.

 

The men were headed towards Spike’s townhouse, and Spike spoke in a low voice. “Run ahead, get the others, and get out. We’re going to circle around back and come at them from behind.”

 

“What about you?” Buffy whispered.

 

“I’m going to stay out here, make sure they don’t do anything that’s going to get anyone killed.” Spike pulled her close for a hard kiss. “Be careful.”

 

“You, too,” she ordered.

 

Buffy ran as fast as she could; she had to get the others out, and then she had some Knights to kill.


	34. Chapter 34

**“Or shall I live your epitaph to make,/Or you survive when I in earth am rotten,/From hence your memory death cannot take,/Although in me each part will be forgotten./Your name from hence immortal life shall have,/Though I, once gone, to all the world must die;/The earth can yield me but a common grave,/When you entombed in men’s eyes shall lie./Your monument shall be my gentle verse,/Which eyes not yet created shall o’er-read,/And tongues to be your being shall rehearse/When all the breathers of this world are dead./You still shall live—such virtue hath my pen—/Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.” ~William Shakespeare, “Sonnet 81”**

 

Quinn woke with a start when the spare room window slid up. “Wha—”

 

“It’s me,” Buffy said. “Get up. The Knights are on their way.”

 

Quinn was used to waking at a moment’s notice, and she rolled out of bed, fully dressed. “Ready.”

 

Buffy gave her an approving smile. “Where’s Tara?”

 

“I don’t know. Wesley and Willow took your bed, and we shut the robot down to save on batteries. I’ll check the kitchen. Are we going out the back?”

 

“Yeah. Spike’s going to stay out front, to make sure they don’t spring anything on us.”

 

Quinn nodded, grabbing her weapons and heading out to the kitchen. Tara was standing at the kitchen sink, looking out at the backyard, sipping a cup of tea. “We need to go.”

 

Tara turned to face her. “What’s going on?”

 

“Buffy just climbed through the spare room window. The Knights are on their way, and we need to get out.”

 

To her credit, Tara remained unruffled. “I’ll put my shoes on.”

 

By the time Tara had finished dressing, Wesley, Willow, and Buffy had joined Quinn in the kitchen. They went out the back door silently, moving as one well-trained unit. Quinn knew that no matter what happened, whether she stayed in Sunnydale or not, she would never again find a group like this, one where she fit in as she had nowhere else, not even in the Academy.

 

Buffy led them unerringly to Spike, and they all watched as the Knights took positions around the townhouse. Quinn counted about at least eight that she could see; she wasn’t stupid enough to believe that all of them were visible.

 

“Aren’t they worried about drawing a crowd?” Tara asked, mystified.

 

Spike shrugged. “My guess is that they’re waiting for dark to strike. No one in this town concerns themselves much with what goes on after the sun goes down.”

 

“They’re making a move,” Quinn observed, watching two of the Knights break off from the rest of the group to head around the side of the house. “You think they’re going to break in?”

 

“Looks like it,” Spike said. “Okay, same drill as before. Wes, you and Quinn head to the east side. There’s a window big enough for the both of you over there. Break the glass if you have to. Tara, Willow, take the north side.”

 

“We’re sticking together,” Buffy inserted, giving Spike a hard look. “Right?”

 

Spike grinned. “We’re going to come up behind them as soon as they head inside the house, but our unwelcome guests need to be dead or incapacitated before they alert the rest of that lot that we’re not inside.”

 

“Of course,” Wesley said mildly.

 

Quinn knew that tone of voice, and it did not bode well for the Knights.

 

They paired off then, careful not to be seen or make any noise. The eastern window Spike had mentioned was unlocked, and it slid up easily. Quinn hated to admit it, but she was disappointed when they found the unconscious bodies of the two Knights; Willow and Tara had managed to incapacitate them first. Between the four of them, they managed to lock the two men in the guest bathroom.

 

“Bugger it,” Quinn muttered. “I’m in the mood for a good brawl.”

 

“You might yet get it,” Wesley replied reprovingly, checking his pistol for the third time. He fiddled with the silencer to make sure it was screwed on tight and gave a satisfied nod. “Not long now.”

 

“Shh.” Willow glared at both of them.

 

Quinn exchanged an amused look with Tara, then the front door burst open, and there was no time to be amused or even to think about anything but dodging the next blow and avoiding the Knights’ swords.

 

She could barely keep track of the others in the melee; the pros and cons of fighting in such close quarters were obvious. The Knights were unable to use their numbers to full advantage, nor could they utilize their weapons, which required a lot more space to swing around.

 

Wesley’s guns were all but useless, however, since he risked hitting an ally if he attempted to shoot an enemy—no matter how accurate his aim. Quinn and the others were forced to rely on knives and hand-to-hand combat, which wasn’t terribly effective against men in armor.

 

Quinn began forcing some of the Knights towards the front door, trying to ease the crush. Tara and Willow followed, using magical means to push the armored men out the door. Once outside, she could spare a moment to breathe, wondering what the neighbors were thinking, just as Spike and Buffy forced the rest of the Knights out onto the front lawn, closely followed by Wesley.

 

Quinn could feel the hum in the air that indicated magic was being worked, and she saw Tara and Willow link hands to cast another spell, hopefully one that would affect the Knights and no one else.

 

But if she could feel the gathering power that the spell entailed, the Knights could, too, and Quinn saw one of the Knights turn towards Tara and Willow. The witches’ backs were to him, and he lunged, his sword a silver blur, the point appearing in the center of Willow’s chest.

 

Quinn heard Wesley’s anguished cry, Buffy and Spike’s twin shouts of fury, and she felt the shift in the balance of the fight as everything seemed to stop.

 

~~~~~

 

Joyce perched on the edge of the bed, giving Giles a disapproving glare. “You should be resting.”

 

“I’m fine, Joyce.”

 

“No, you’re not,” she replied with some asperity. “You were badly injured, and the doctor ordered rest. But if you really want something to do…”

 

Before Giles knew what was going on, Joyce had Thomas nestled next to his right side—the one without the broken ribs. “And you need to take more pain medication,” she announced. “I’ll get it for you.”

 

Giles relaxed back into the pillows, knowing a losing argument when he was in the middle of one, and cradled his son. The Council operatives had threatened Thomas and Joyce if he didn’t cooperate, and he couldn’t say he’d been sorry to hear that the lot of them had been killed.

 

Even so, the men had managed to do quite a bit of damage in a very short period of time, and he was hurting just as badly as Joyce suspected. She’d ordered him to bed as soon as they had arrived at Robert’s, and Robert had readily promised to send all of Giles’ meals up to him.

 

It was really too bad; the glimpses of the decorations in the mansion were tantalizing. He had a strong desire to explore, and to ask their host all sorts of questions. Unfortunately, he was unlikely to be allowed out of bed for anything but the absolutely necessary for the next few days.

 

When Joyce returned with a glass of water and a handful of pills, Oscar followed her into the room. “I trust you’re comfortable, Rupert.”

 

“Quite.” Giles managed a smile for the other man, who was quickly becoming a close friend. There weren’t many people who understood what it was like to be a Watcher with an active Slayer, fewer still who had a Slayer who was like a daughter. “And yourself?”

 

“This house is amazing,” Oscar admitted. “It’s a pity you can’t see more of it.”

 

Giles grimaced as he swallowed the pills Joyce handed him. “Thank you so much for pointing that out.”

 

Oscar grinned. “I came bearing good news.”

 

Giles perked up at that. “Have you heard from Buffy, or Quinn?” He thought it unlikely that his Slayer would choose to call someone other than himself or Joyce, but it was possible that she’d delegated the task to Quinn. He knew she and Spike were planning on going after the Knights as soon as they’d left Sunnydale, and he expected an update soon.

 

“No, I’m sorry, but I did hear from Singh, our new Council head.”

 

Giles’ eyebrows went up. “Arthur Singh?”

 

Oscar nodded. “He called to inform me that he had personally rescinded the death order on Quinn, and to apologize for any inconvenience said order might have caused. It was a very civilized conversation.”

 

Giles snorted. “I can imagine.”

 

Joyce frowned. “Wait. He called to apologize about ordering Quinn killed, but he hasn’t called us about Rupert being tortured?”

 

Oscar shook his head. “As Rupert is no longer with the Council, he probably feels as though he doesn’t need to respond, particularly since some of their best men were killed.”

 

“And that makes us even?”

 

Joyce’s voice was rising rapidly, and Giles winced as Thomas shifted in his sleep. “Love, you’re going to wake Thomas.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “What happened to Travers?” she asked in a very quiet, very dangerous tone.

 

Oscar cleared his throat. “Forcible retirement, I’m afraid, along with Roger Wyndam-Pryce and a few other members of their cabal.”

 

Joyce hissed a few words that she rarely said, quietly enough so as not to wake Tommy. “Fine. I’m sure they’ll get what’s coming to them sooner or later.”

 

In Giles’ experience, that was probably wishful thinking, but he hadn’t the heart to point that out to his wife.

 

Joyce let Oscar out of the room, then laid down on the bed next to Giles, head propped on her hand. “You should sleep.”

 

“Will you stay?”

 

“Of course.” She reached for his good hand. “Thank God you’re okay.”

 

Giles managed to smile around the bruises on his face. “I couldn’t leave you.”

 

“I wish I could make you promise not to put yourself in danger like that again.” Her voice was soft and wistful, her eyes focused on Tommy.

 

Giles squeezed her hand. “I wish I could make that promise.”

 

They said nothing else about the Council, or his injuries, or the fear they had each felt; Giles simply held Joyce’s hand until she had fallen asleep, and he followed soon after.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara felt the change in Willow’s aura when the sword went through her chest. She knew it was a mortal wound immediately, and she watched Wesley fling himself across the lawn, through the melee, ignoring everything but Willow.

 

Quinn quickly moved in front of them, defending Willow and Wesley as he cradled her in his arms. Tara heard him ordering Willow to hold on, as well as the breath bubbling in Willow’s lungs. Blood was already staining her lips, and Tara knew that her friend was dying.

 

And she knew that she could prevent it.

 

Tara knelt next to Willow and Wesley, gently but firmly moving Wesley’s hands out of the way to place her own over the wound. She felt, rather than saw, Spike and Buffy move to encircle them, holding off the remaining Knights as they tried to press their advantage.

 

“Tara,” Wesley whispered brokenly. “I don’t—”

 

“It’s going to be okay,” she promised. Tara felt herself growing warm, and in the gathering dusk, the front yard began to grow brighter. With a sense of detachment, she noted that her hands and arms were glowing, and Tara realized that _she_ was glowing.

 

Tara couldn’t spare the energy to do more than notice, however. She was too busy focusing on muscle and bone and sinew, easing into Willow’s mind to guide her body’s healing process, providing the resources Willow didn’t have.

 

She wasn’t sure she would have been able to heal anyone else, but Tara had been working magic with Willow for nearly two years now, and once Wesley realized what she was doing, he began feeding Willow power as well.

 

When Willow took her first pain-free breath, Tara knew that she’d been successful. Tara removed her hands and met Wesley’s eyes. He nodded and drew Willow close to his chest. Willow would sleep now, and when she awoke, she would be as good as new.

 

Tara gave herself a mental shake to clear her mind and slowly stood. To her surprise, the remaining Knights were kneeling, swords point-first in the ground, hands clasped around the hilt—and unless Tara was greatly mistaken, they had knelt for her.

 

Spike appeared at her side and nudged her with his elbow. “Say something ‘messenger from God-like.’”

 

“What?” Tara tried not to squawk, but she was afraid that’s what it sounded like.

 

“They think you’re a messenger from God,” Spike hissed. “But they’re going to get over it in a moment. Tell them to go away or something.”

 

Tara wished Spike could be a little more specific about “or something,” but an idea suddenly occurred to her. She cleared her throat. “I bring a message from God. You have served him well, but he has chosen another to continue his work.”

 

“What have we done to garner his disfavor?” one of the Knights asked, sounding as though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

 

Tara attempted to increase the light pouring off of her skin; it had been diminishing, but now the light flared up again, causing everyone to shield their eyes. “You doubt the word of God?”

 

“No!” A different Knight spoke this time. “No, we do not doubt the word of God.”

 

“But how do we know she’s God’s messenger?” That question came from the same Knight who had asked the first question, and Tara raised her hand in his direction.

 

The spell she had used on her brother was easily duplicated, and she thought her accompanying pronouncement made her point clear. “Because you dared to question God, you will be struck dumb. Only when you have obeyed his orders and left this place will you regain your capacity for speech.”

 

“But what are we to do?” one of the younger Knights asked.

 

Annoyance sharpened Tara’s voice. “Go feed the poor, care for the sick, defend the weak and powerless—just make yourselves useful. Now go, before God commands your destruction for questioning his will.”

 

Tara couldn’t quite believe it when the Knights actually rose and shuffled off, stunned expressions on their faces. She assumed that came from having your entire life’s purpose ripped away in moments, but Tara couldn’t say she felt sorry for them.

 

When they were gone, Tara focused on _not_ glowing, and after a few moments, the light died down completely.

 

Quinn broke the silence first. “That was fucking _brilliant_.”

 

Tara turned to face the others. “It wasn’t too much?”

 

Spike started to laugh. “I’d say it was just right.”

 

Buffy knelt next to Wesley. “How is she?”

 

“I’m fine.” Willow’s eyes fluttered open. “What did I miss?”

 

Buffy snorted. “A lot. We’ll fill you in later.”

 

Wesley started to lift her, but Willow batted at his arms. “Really, Wes, I’m fine—really tired, but good as new.”

 

Tara watched as Wesley reluctantly set Willow on her feet and let her go; Tara’s eyes met Willow’s, and they both smiled.

 

“Thanks,” Willow said softly.

 

Tara shrugged. “Any time.”

 

“We should all get some rest,” Buffy announced. “We’re going to have to deal with Glory next.”

 

Tara was under no illusions; they had gotten lucky with the Knights, but Glory would be their toughest opponent yet.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike pulled Buffy closer, listening to her sleepy murmurs while he stared at the ceiling. Now that the Council and the Knights were taken care of, Glory was next on the list—and Glory was something that could kill all of them and not break a sweat.

 

The cell phone on the bedside table began buzzing, and Spike reached out to grab it before it could wake Buffy. “Yeah?”

 

“Spike? Is this a bad time?” Giles’ voice was clear and much less strained than it had been the last time Spike had seen him.

 

“No. We were just catching up on some sleep.”

 

“Tara was quite the marvel, I take it.”

 

Spike smiled. “That’s a good way to put it.” He took a deep breath. “What did you find, Rupert?”

 

“Am I that obvious?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Very well. Since I am not being allowed out of bed, I’ve had a lot more time to read. It seems that Glory has a limited time to use Dawn’s blood. After that, she’ll be stuck here.”

 

Spike frowned. “How much longer?”

 

“Not long,” Giles warned him. “She’ll be getting desperate.”

 

“I understand.”

 

They exchanged their goodbyes, and Spike ended the call. He could tell from Buffy’s breathing that she was awake. “How much of that did you hear?”

 

“A lot.” Buffy shifted so that she could meet his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

 

“We do this alone.” Spike already knew that Buffy was going to agree with him. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

 

“I agree. How are we going to find Glory?”

 

Spike smiled. “I think we go for a walk with April. I’d be surprised if Glory didn’t already know we have the Key, and even have a good idea of who it is.”

 

Buffy snorted. “Or what it is, but yeah. I’d agree.”

 

Spike pressed a kiss to her lips. “Let’s get going, then. We’ve got a Hellgod to find.”

 

~~~~~

 

Willow stirred and stretched, feeling absolutely amazing—which was pretty crazy for someone who had been staring death in the face the day before.

 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Wesley leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Breakfast?”

 

She beamed at him. “You brought me breakfast in bed?”

 

“Of course. You need to regain your strength.”

 

Willow scooted herself up into a seated position. “I feel really good.”

 

“Then allow me to pamper you, and you can enjoy it.” Wesley put a tray in front of her, complete with orange juice, buttered toast, and a bowl of fruit.

 

“When did you get all of this?”

 

“I went out this morning.” He gave an embarrassed shrug. “So, you feel alright?”

 

“Better than alright.” Willow began to dig into her breakfast, suddenly famished. “How are the others?”

 

“I called Spike. He and Buffy are planning on resting up today. They think we’ve got another day before we need to start looking for Glory in earnest.” Wesley smiled. “I believe that Quinn took Tara home, and I haven’t spoken to either of them.”

 

Willow laughed. “I wouldn’t have expected you to. Are Xander and Anya back yet? Has anyone talked to them?”

 

“No, not yet. I was planning on calling Giles shortly. Do you mind?”

 

Willow waved him on, intent on her toast and fruit. She could hear Wesley’s side of the conversation, and it sounded to her like Xander and Anya had made it back to Sunnydale safely, and Anya was opening the bookstore back up.

 

As far as Willow could tell, it was business as usual, and she thought they could certainly use a little time off before they had to deal with Glory.

 

“Wait, what?” Wesley’s sharp tone broke her out of her happy thoughts. “When did you talk to him?”

 

Willow frowned, and Wesley said, “No, Giles, don’t worry. I’m sure it was just a miscommunication. I’ll let you know.” He hung up the phone and turned to Willow. “Spike talked to Giles this morning. Giles said he was under the impression that Spike was going after Glory immediately.”

 

Willow didn’t like the sound of that. “You’d better call him.”

 

When Wesley began to pace after his call to Spike failed, and his attempt to call Buffy ended the same way, Willow began to seriously worry. “Call Xander,” she suggested. “At least he’ll be able to check the map and get their location.”

 

As Wesley made the next call, Willow put her tray aside and started searching for clean clothing. It looked like they weren’t going to get a day off after all.


	35. Chapter 35

**“Your hand flew from my eyes into the day./The light arrived and opened like a rose garden./Sand and sky throbbed like an ultimate/beehive carved in the turquoise./Your hand touched syllables that rang like bells,/Touched cups, barrels full of yellow oil,/flower petals, fountains, and, above all, love,/Love: your pure hand guarded the ladles./The afternoon…was. Quietly the night slid/over a man asleep, its celestial capsule./Honeysuckle set loose its sad savage odor./And then your hand fluttered, it flew back again:/it closed its wings, its feathers I had thought were lost,/over my eyes the darkness had swallowed.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet XXXV”**

 

Xander felt like he was part of the excitement for once. Not only had he been in on the rescue of Giles—if only in a peripheral sense—but he’d also been asked to drive Giles, Joyce, Dawn, and Thomas to Los Angeles.

 

And now it looked like they needed him again.

 

“Spike isn’t answering his phone?” Xander asked in a low voice, spreading the map out in front of him. He’d been at work, but he had willingly met Wesley during a break. He’d sent his crew for their fifteen and spread the map over a couple of sawhorses.

 

“Buffy isn’t either,” Willow replied. “That’s not like them.”

 

“No, it’s not.” Xander touched the map, his stomach sinking when the colored dots appeared momentarily, only to flicker out again. “It isn’t working.”

 

“Let me see.” Willow took the map from his hands, turning it over and staring at the streets and landmarks of Sunnydale. “The magic has been weakened,” she said slowly. “We’re going to have to cast the spell again to make it work.”

 

“We don’t have time for that.” Wesley’s voice was terse. “If Spike and Buffy are going after Glory alone, they’ll have found her before we can even gather the necessary items.”

 

Willow shot him a look. “I’m aware of that, Wes, but we don’t have a choice. I’m guessing that adding people to the map without redoing the entire spell used up a lot of the power that was driving it.”

 

“Can’t you track them some other way?” Xander asked. “Another locator spell, maybe?”

 

“That’s going to take time.”

 

Wesley was clearly cranky, but there was nothing Xander could do. If the map didn’t work, he wasn’t going to be the one to fix it. “This is Spike and Buffy we’re talking about,” he said patiently. “They’re fully capable of taking care of themselves—and each other.”

 

Xander glanced at the clock, noting that he had about two minutes left before the other guys would start filtering back in after their smoke and coffee break. He thought wistfully about his rapidly diminishing vacation days, then said, “I can help if you want.”

 

Willow offered a grateful smile. “Thanks, Xander, but I think you’re right. We’re going to need items belonging to Spike and Buffy, and do the locator spell. There’s not much you can do.”

 

“Just call if you need something,” Xander said. “I can probably leave early if you need me.”

 

They were gone by the time the first of his guys came back into the room; Xander had already tucked the map away, and although he tried to focus on the job, worry gnawed at him.

 

He believed what he’d said to Wesley and Willow: Spike and Buffy were more than capable—but this was a Hellgod they were talking about, and it would be just like them to go after Glory, especially after what had happened to Willow.

 

Xander ran a hand through his hair and tucked his cell phone in his pocket. There was nothing he could do right now, and he needed to keep his job.

 

“Okay, back to work!” he called, putting his hard hat back on.

 

Xander was beginning to accept that he had a life outside of saving the world, no matter how much he wanted to help his friends. He could do what he could to help, but his life was Anya and building things. Stopping apocalypses had been relegated to an extracurricular activity.

 

Thinking of the engagement ring he had his eye on, Xander thought he might be okay with that.

 

~~~~~

 

By mutual agreement, they had left their cell phones at home. Spike had pointed out that even if they had an opportunity to call for help if they needed it, the chances of anyone reaching them in time were slim to none.

 

Buffy knew that they were taking a huge risk going in alone, but she agreed with Spike. She didn’t want to risk anyone else; Spike was nearly invulnerable, and she was the Slayer. They stood a better chance against Glory than anyone, and there was still a good chance they were going to get their asses handed to them.

 

“Are you sure we’re going to see Warren?”

 

“We have to do this one errand first, April,” Spike said with a sigh.

 

She gave him a dubious look. “That’s what you said about the last errand.”

 

Buffy met Spike’s eyes and saw the same guilt in his face that she felt. It would just figure that the robot had a good memory. “I know, April, but surely you want to help us. It’s what Warren would want.”

 

That was a blatant lie, but Buffy was willing to do whatever it took to get Glory at this point. She could see the light at the end of the tunnel. With the Council off their backs, and the Knights out of the way, the only enemy they had to worry about was Glory.

 

And Buffy wanted the Hellbitch dead.

 

“I have to ask you something.”

 

Spike’s voice broke the silence as they walked towards the second high rise apartment building. There were only a couple in Sunnydale, and Spike had suggested that they start there; Glory didn’t seem the sort to own a house.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“What if Glory is tied to a human body, and that person is an innocent in all of this?” Spike asked. “Wes seemed to think he or she wasn’t aware of it.”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “I think if we have a chance to end Glory, we do it. She would destroy the world if she had the chance.”

 

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one, or the few,” April inserted, appearing pleased with her contribution.

 

Spike threw April a look. “Did Willow program her with _Star Trek_ movies?”

 

“You know _Star Trek_?” Buffy countered.

 

“That’s not the point.” Spike scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “The point is Glory.”

 

“Whatever it takes,” Buffy insisted.

 

Spike nodded grimly. “Right, then. Whatever it takes.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn didn’t exactly mind the break from her regularly scheduled life. Robert’s house was huge and beautiful, his collection of gaming consoles was awesome, and the pool was similarly cool. Really, if she had to be exiled while Spike and Buffy killed Glory, this was the place to stay.

 

That didn’t explain why she was feeling so down, however.

 

“Can I join you?”

 

Dawn shaded her eyes, looking up at Robert. “Sure. It’s your pool.”

 

“I didn’t know if you’d rather be alone,” he replied diplomatically.

 

She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m alone enough.”

 

“I’m sorry there aren’t more people your own age here.”

 

Dawn shrugged, knowing that Spike had told Robert what she was. “Technically, there’s no one my age.”

 

The silence that fell between them was companionable, and Dawn closed her eyes and let the sun’s heat soak into her skin. “Can I ask you a question?”

 

She heard the smile in Robert’s voice. “You may ask.”

 

“How did you and Spike meet?”

 

“Ah.” Robert paused delicately. “That is an interesting question.”

 

“And you’re not going to tell me.” Dawn knew that tone of voice; adults used it when they were trying to let you down easy.

 

Robert chuckled. “I didn’t say that, but I think I’d prefer if you didn’t tell Spike that I told you.”

 

“Have you known him for a long time?” Dawn sat up, leaning closer to Robert, feeling a thrill. She and Spike were linked by fate, but that didn’t mean she knew much about him. Even the collected stories in Quinn’s book hadn’t told her nearly enough.

 

“Oh, not long when you consider how long we’ve both lived,” Robert said.

 

“How old are you?” Dawn blurted out before she could think better of the question. “Sorry,” she said immediately. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

 

“I am nearly eighty,” Robert replied mildly. “Old in human terms, but not those of my clan.”

 

Dawn wanted to ask if Tara would live as long, but she bit her tongue. She could ask about Tara later. Right now, she wanted to know about Spike. “So, you and Spike met…”

 

“About ten years ago,” Robert replied. “I had a cousin who was in trouble in the Middle East, and I needed someone to smuggle her out. Spike came highly recommended.”

 

“That isn’t nearly enough information!” Dawn protested, jolted out of her ennui by the promise of a good story. She excelled at wheedling, and that’s exactly what she planned to do.

 

Robert’s smile suggested that had been his plan all along.

 

~~~~~

 

Luck was with them for a change at the second building. Buffy was the first to spot one of the same little scabby demons they had run into at the zoo while preventing Glory from raising the snake demon.

 

The fact that the scabby demon had been watching _them_ , and was likely scurrying back to Glory to inform her that it had found the Key, was not lost on either of them.

 

Getting into the elevator with the demon wasn’t an option, so Spike stood next to Buffy and April in the lobby, waiting to see where the elevator stopped.

 

“Top floor. Should have known,” Spike commented, hitting the button to go up.

 

“What’s the plan?” Buffy asked.

 

“Go in, kill Glory, get out before the cops come.” Spike grinned at her. “Do you think we need a different plan?”

 

She shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

 

Spike didn’t dare unsheathe his sword in the elevator; the risk that someone would be waiting outside the doors when it opened was too great. “April? Do you think you could knock on Glory’s door?”

 

The glimmer of a plan was risky, but no more so than bursting through the front door.

 

April smiled brightly. “I’m always happy to help!”

 

Her perky response caused Spike to wince, mostly because he didn’t expect the robot to come through this in one piece. “And we appreciate it. What I need you to do is to knock on a door and tell whoever answers that the Slayer sent you. Think you can do that?”

 

April gave him a look that clearly indicated she thought he was stupid for asking; Spike couldn’t get over how much of a personality she had for the next thing to an inanimate object. “Of course.”

 

“Great.” The elevator stopped moving, and Spike pointed out the door across from the elevator. “Start with that door, and if no one responds, try the next. Tell them you’re the Key.”

 

He pulled Buffy into an alcove along the hallway, and she elbowed him. “What is that about?”

 

“April figures out exactly what apartment Glory is in, and we go in.”

 

Buffy glanced at him. “Do you really think it’s going to be that easy?”

 

“In a word, no.” Spike kept his eyes trained on April. “But I don’t think we have another choice. Do whatever you can to give me a shot at beheading Glory with the sword.”

 

“And if that doesn’t work?”

 

“We run,” Spike replied grimly. “Or you do. If the sword isn’t effective, I want you to get out of there; don’t worry about me. We tell everyone to pack up, and we leave town until her window of opportunity has passed.”

 

He could see that she wanted to argue, but she finally nodded. “Okay, but be careful, Spike.” Buffy grabbed his arm. “Don’t take stupid risks just to end this. We’ll end it, but I want both of us alive at the end of it.”

 

Spike nodded, then pressed a hard kiss to Buffy’s lips. “Love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

They both heard a squawk that could only be from Glory, although Spike couldn’t tell if the sound was one of victory or anger.

 

He drew his sword and rushed forward, knowing that Buffy would have his back.

 

~~~~~

 

Tara sighed as the argument raged around her in Wesley’s living room. Now that they knew where Spike and Buffy were, Wesley wanted to find them, and possibly kick Spike’s ass for going off without him. Willow didn’t like the idea of going in without a plan, and possibly ruining Spike and Buffy’s plan.

 

Quinn thought that they could probably manage to get in and at least provide a distraction while Spike killed Glory, and Tara had kept her mouth shut.

 

Until now.

 

“I think we should stay put.” Silence fell over the room as everyone turned to look at her. “We all know why Spike and Buffy decided to do this alone,” Tara continued. “And they have a right to make that decision.”

 

“And if something happens to them?” Wesley demanded roughly.

 

“That you could stop?” Tara countered. “This is Glory, a Hellgod. You know as well as I do that if we were there, Spike and Buffy would both be too worried about us to pay full attention to the fight.”

 

The unspoken words hung in the air—especially after what had happened the day before.

 

“The prophecy said that Spike would be the one who had to make a choice, that the world was in his hands,” Quinn inserted. “Wesley, you know there’s nothing we can do now.”

 

“We can be there,” Wesley insisted. “We can pick up the pieces if necessary.”

 

They all looked at each other, and Willow nodded. “Wes is right. We can be there, even if we can’t intervene.”

 

Tara could see the relief on Quinn’s face; she finally had something to do. Tara had to admit that taking some action, even if it was small, was better than sitting around and waiting.

 

“Let’s go, then.”

 

Maybe they would be able to do something after all.

 

~~~~~

 

Sometimes, in the heat of battle, Buffy became hyper-aware of every detail, usually when the tide was turning in her favor, or she could sense that she was going to lose—and it was going to _hurt_.

 

This was one of those times.

 

The scabby demons had descended on them as soon as they had kicked down the door, and it turned out that Glory’s scream had been one of rage; April’s head was on the floor, three feet from her body, wires protruding and sparks flying. She was screaming at her minions to kill them, to capture them, to make them pay, and the minions were attempting to do just that.

 

Buffy thought it was a little like being on the wrong end of a clown car, since the damn little demons seemed to come out of nowhere, threatening to overwhelm her and Spike by sheer numbers, even if they didn’t have strength or agility.

 

She speared two at the same time on her sword, fighting to get it clear of the bodies, watching the blood—darker than human blood, more rusty than red—fly in an arc through the air, droplets falling on the carpet, the walls, her clothing.

 

Buffy could see that they were finally reaching the end of Glory’s minions after what felt like hours, but was probably only five minutes or so. Her arm was getting tired, and her shoulder ached from nearly being wrenched out of its socket by one of the demons; her weapon had gotten hung up on one of its ribs.

 

Glancing across the room, she could see Spike, his blade a silver blur as he fought his way to Glory; the Hellgod was still screeching, but her voice had taken on a desperate tone that bode well for Spike’s success.

 

He had a manic grin on his face, lips stretched wide, and Buffy saw the flash of green and gold on his hand as he cut the head off of the last demon between him and Glory.

 

The Hellgod had both hands on her head now, and she was moaning in pain, just as she had the last time they had tried to kill her. They hadn’t had a magic sword then, however, and now Spike stepped forward, blade raised.

 

And froze when Glory was suddenly gone, and a young man stood in front of him. He looked vaguely familiar, and Buffy realized that it was one of the interns from the hospital. She had no idea how he’d gotten into Glory’s apartment in the middle of the fight.

 

Ben had his hands up, and Buffy could hear the fear in his voice as he said, “No, please. You don’t understand.”

 

Spike hadn’t lowered the sword, and Buffy felt sick as she realized that Spike wasn’t going to stop.

 

“Spike! NO!”

 

Spike turned slightly, enough to catch her eye, and she saw the resolve. He turned back to the kneeling man. “I’m sorry,” he said, and swung.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike could see the incomprehension in Buffy’s eyes, even from across the room. For whatever reason, she didn’t know that the man _was_ Glory, or Glory’s human host.

 

In that moment, he knew he had a choice. He could put down the sword, and they could risk Glory coming back and finding Dawn and ending the world. Or, he could kill what was very likely an innocent man, and hope that Buffy would understand and be able to forgive him.

 

Spike thought of Dawn, and her wide innocent eyes, and he swung.

 

Body and head hit the floor separately, the twin thuds twisting his stomach. He stood, sword dangling, staring at the slowly growing pool of blood. He didn’t dare look at Buffy.

 

A hand came to rest on his forearm, and Buffy gently took the sword from his grasp, bending to wipe the blade clean on the dress Glory had been wearing; it looked ludicrous on the man.

 

“He was Glory.”

 

Buffy broke the silence, and Spike turned to face her. “You didn’t see the transformation?”

 

She shook her head. “No, I did, but—it’s fuzzy. I didn’t remember that he _was_ Glory until you’d killed him.” Buffy handed him the sword. “We’d better get out of here before someone calls the cops.”

 

“You’re not mad?” he asked as he followed her out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

 

He heard her sigh. “We talked about how we were going to deal with this, Spike.” She waited until they were in the elevator to continue. “Glory is dead, and Mom and Giles can come home. Why would I be upset about that?”

 

“Fair enough.” Spike wrapped an arm around her shoulders when Buffy snuggled up to his waist. “We made it, luv.”

 

“And the world didn’t end.” She gave him a bright smile. “I say we party.”

 

Spike snorted. “After I sleep for about a week.”

 

He was somehow unsurprised to see Wesley and the others waiting for them. “Why the hell would you go in alone?” Wesley demanded without preamble.

 

Willow broke in. “Is Glory dead?”

 

“Dead as a doornail,” Buffy replied. “But let’s get off the street. I need to call Mom, and we look like we’ve survived a massacre.”

 

They all crammed into Spike’s Mustang, the girls in the back seat. The tale of how they’d slain the Hellgod took no longer than the ride from the apartment buildings to Spike’s townhouse. Spike had allowed Wesley to drive, and he leaned his head against the seat, weariness weighing him down. He didn’t think he’d felt this tired after a battle before, but then, there had been a lot going on for what seemed a very long time.

 

“We’ll let you get some sleep,” Wesley said when the car pulled to a stop. “You look like you could use it, but we _are_ going to talk about this later.”

 

“Thanks, Wes.” Buffy leaned over the front seat to pat him on the shoulder. “We appreciate it.”

 

“How are you getting home?” Spike asked, pulling himself from his daze.

 

“My bike is here.” Wesley sighed. “Go on, Spike. You’ll fall asleep in the car otherwise.”

 

Spike stumbled into the house, nearly asleep on his feet, Buffy steering him down the hallway. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “Because this isn’t like you.”

 

“Dunno,” he slurred. “Just exhausted.”

 

“You and me both,” Buffy muttered. She helped him undress, then Spike fell face-first into the pillow, and knew no more.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy awoke to the sound of thudding under her ear. It was a foreign sound, but after a moment, she realized that it was a heartbeat.

 

That wasn’t right.

 

She stirred, moving carefully so as not to disturb her companion, and immediately saw that it was still Spike. Buffy hadn’t noticed a change in body temperature, because the ring and its added protections took care of that. In fact, nothing seemed to have changed, except for the heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest.

 

“Huh.” Buffy reached out to touch his skin, smiling at the warmth, at his sleepy twitching. She ran her hand up his chest to his throat and back down again, her smile turning into a grin when she noticed his body’s reaction.

 

“Better not promise anything you’re not going to deliver,” Spike murmured without opening his eyes.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She kept her voice innocent and waited for Spike to notice that something big had changed.

 

“I’m—” Spike stopped, freezing, and she felt his chest stop moving.

 

“Breathe, Spike,” Buffy ordered, amused. “You’re human now, so you’re going to need to.”

 

He pulled in a gasping breath, coughing once, then twice, before he fell back into the rhythm. “When?”

 

She shrugged. “Sometime in the night? I have no idea.”

 

“Bloody hell.”

 

“How does it feel?” Buffy searched his face anxiously, knowing that he’d been uncertain about this possibility. She was less surprised, and a lot less freaked out, than she thought she’d be. He was still Spike; he’d had his soul before, and he’d been warm and invulnerable to sunlight.

 

He’d be able to go out in the sun now, too, but he wouldn’t be invulnerable.

 

Buffy shoved that thought to the back of her mind. It wasn’t worth worrying about, not now, maybe not ever.

 

“I feel…the same.” He pulled her in for a kiss, and Buffy made a face about his morning breath. “Sorry.”

 

“No, it’s okay.” The reality of it all came crashing down—everything was okay. She could appreciate that fact now that she wasn’t too tired to have it all sink in. The Council had been neutralized, the Knights were out of the picture, Glory was dead—and her vampire boyfriend was now human. “God, Spike, we can actually take a vacation.”

 

Spike laughed and pulled her in close. “Anywhere you want to go, luv. Anywhere you want to go.”

 

**Epilogue**

 

“How do I look?”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Dashing. Relax, Wes.”

 

“I’m getting married!” Wesley protested. “I don’t think I’m supposed to relax.”

 

“That’s right; you’re getting married. So, take a deep breath and remember that Willow asked you first, so I doubt she’s going to do a runner.”

 

Wesley shot him a dirty look, then turned as Joyce poked her head inside Buffy’s old room. “Are you ready? The justice of the peace is here.”

 

“Yes, I think so.” Wesley wiped his palms on his suit pants. “Yes.”

 

Joyce smiled and entered the room, adjusting Wesley’s tie with a motherly gesture. “You’ll do just fine.” She turned to Spike and did the same for him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You both look wonderful.”

 

Spike gave her a sharp look. “Now, don’t start the waterworks, Joyce. You need to save the tears for our wedding.”

 

“You haven’t set a date yet,” Joyce countered.

 

Spike shrugged. “What’s the hurry?”

 

Joyce shook her head and led them out of the room. Spike could hear voices and women’s laughter coming from the master bedroom, but he couldn’t understand the words. A year ago, he would have been able to make out every word, but he’d grown used to it.

 

In truth, Spike had begun to hate his undead status; being immortal wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, especially when all those he loved were human. Being human was something of a relief—and it wasn’t like he’d lost any of his strength or speed.

 

In spite of a forecast that threatened rain, the sky was blue and clear, and the spring day was warm, but not uncomfortably so.

 

Spike spotted Dawn sitting on a blanket in the corner of the yard, attempting to keep Tommy occupied. All of her efforts to keep the little boy distracted failed as soon as he saw Spike. “Pike!”

 

He toddled over on chubby legs, and Spike swept Tommy up into the air, grinning at the boy’s squeals of delight. “Again!”

 

“I can’t,” Spike said regretfully. “I think your dad might have something for you, luv.” Spike put him down and pointed him in Giles’ direction. Giles was talking to Oscar O’Mara, holding Tommy’s favorite stuffed bear.

 

Dawn rose from the ground, smoothing her skirt. “Hey. You look great.”

 

“So do you,” Spike replied, putting a brotherly arm around her shoulders. “I’ll be beating the boys off with a stick.”

 

She turned bright red. “Yeah, well, as long as you don’t beat my boyfriend off with a stick.”

 

Spike looked at her. “When did this happen?”

 

Dawn shrugged. “Yesterday. Mike asked me to go to prom.”

 

Spike could tell that she was nearly bursting to tell the news, but didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal. He grinned. “Good for you, Bit.” He frowned. “And if he doesn’t treat you right…”

 

“I know.” She shrugged. “You showed me how to get rid of unwanted attention, remember?”

 

“So I did.” Spike saw Joyce motioning him over, and he gave Dawn one last hug before joining Wesley to stand next to the justice of the peace. Wesley appeared calmer, and Spike thought the credit for that went to Joyce.

 

“We’re nearly ready to start,” Joyce said, with a sympathetic look at Wesley. “I’m sorry your parents couldn’t be here today.”

 

Wesley shrugged. “My family is here. That’s what’s important.”

 

And that said it all, Spike thought, as Joyce hurried away to let Buffy know she was to start walking out. He watched as Tara slipped outside and moved to stand between Quinn and Robert, slipping her hand into Quinn’s. Xander and Anya stood side by side next to Quinn, Xander’s arm around Anya’s shoulders.

 

A moment later, Buffy was walking out of the house, the skirt of her dark green dress fluttering in the slight breeze. She gave him a bright smile and stood on the other side of the justice of the peace. Willow followed her in white, her smile almost blinding. She had opted for walking herself down the aisle, since her parents hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of a non-religious wedding.

 

Willow had used the same words Wesley had, however—that her family would be there, and that was all that mattered.

 

As Wesley reached for Willow’s hand, Spike turned to face the justice of the peace and caught Buffy’s eye. This was what he had saved the world for, and all the battles, all the blood on his hands—it was worth it.

 

For once, fate had been kind to him, and Spike couldn’t help but be grateful.


End file.
